"Goodness me, child, you ask me too much," said Mr. King, quickly; "oh, a variety of reasons. Well, we must take things as we find them, and do what we can to help matters along; but it seems a hopeless case,—things were in better shape; and now they seem all tangled up again, thanks to that boy."
"Grandpapa," said Phronsie, earnestly, "I don't believe that boy means to be bad to that poor old man, I don't really and truly, Grandpapa," she added, shaking her head.
"Well, he takes a queer way to show it, if he means to be good," said old Mr. King, grimly.
"Oh, is that you, Master Tom?" as they turned a corner to find themselves face to face with Tom Selwyn.
"Mr. King," Tom began very rapidly so that the words ran all over each other, "I'm no end sorry—don't think hard things of me—it's not my fault this time; Grandfather heard it as well as I—at least, I caught a little and he asked me what it was, and I had to tell him, and it upset him."
Old Mr. King stood gazing into the big boy's face in utter bewilderment. "As I don't know in the least what you are trying to tell me, my boy," at last he said, "I shall have to ask you to repeat it, and go slowly."
So Tom tried again to tell his story, and by the time that it was all out, Mr. King was fuming in righteous indignation.
"Well, well, it's not worth thinking of," at last he said at sight of the flashing eyes before him and the angry light on the young face. "You take my arm, or I'll take yours, Master Tom,—there, that's better,—and we'll do a bit of a turn on the deck. Your grandfather'll come out of it, for he's busy over the backgammon board. But it was an ugly thing to do just the same."
Just then Mrs. Vanderburgh and Fanny passed them, all sweet smiles for him and for Phronsie, but with no eyes for the boy.