He knocked over a chair.
“I understand your feelings, Gollop,” said Susan mildly, “but you needn’t smash the furniture. And you’ll want a steady hand for your shaving, my man. Just go and make yourself tidy while I get your breakfast.”
“I will. Mind you, Sue, that boy stays here till the ship sails. Don’t you give him up to no one whatsoever. And keep a still tongue. Don’t go a-babbling.”
“And keep him out of Mr. Seymour’s sight,” said Martin.
“Why?” asked Susan in surprise.
“Because—I’ll tell you later on. It’s a long story, and Mr. Faryner will be in a rage with me if I don’t hurry back. I’m very late.”
“What you can’t help, make the best of,” said Gollop, as he went back into his bedroom to finish his interrupted toilet.
The baker was in an irritable mood when Martin reached the shop. He had had to find another messenger to carry the morning’s delivery of bread and pastries to Mr. Pasqua’s coffee-house. His annoyance was increased when Martin told him that the Santa Maria was taking in cargo in preparation for sailing.
“They’ve given me no notice,” he said. “But I’ve given no credit, that’s a blessing. What have you been doing all this time? Gaping at the sailors, I suppose. I know you boys—eyes for anything but your proper work. Get away into the back shop and scrub the floor.”
Martin was thankful not to be questioned further. He had half expected that by this time Mr. Faryner had been informed of his having brought an Indian boy away from the ship, and he was on thorns for the rest of the day. But nothing was said about it, and he left the shop at the usual hour.