“How does he with his Latin?” asked the sailor.
“Excellent well, I will say. He hath a positive gift for languages.”
“But he is full of mischievous pranks, you say?”
“Like a very monkey for mischief.”
“And he needs a sobering discipline?” said Martin Alonzo, his voice taking on something of its sea roar.
“Sadly,” answered the friar, trembling a little for the boy; “but do not forget he is but a child.”
“How old is he?”
“Fifteen, good cousin,” said Diego, in a fright; “but do not be so wroth with me. The worst that I did was to break bounds that I might come into port to see you start on your great voyage, good cousin.”
“And purloined a melon and seduced his comrades to eat it with him,” interposed the friar, seeing a softening of Martin Alonzo’s face, owing to the cunning explanation of his reason for disobedience.
“Thou hadst an interest in my voyage, then?” demanded Martin Alonzo.