“There is nothing in the occupation itself that begets rudeness,” added Mr. Lowington, giving no attention to the young gentleman, who had so impolitely broken in upon the conversation of his elders. “I see no reason why a young man cannot be a gentleman in a ship as well as on shore.”
“I dare say you have sailors to do the dirty work.”
“No, madam; our students do all the work.”
“Do they put their own fingers into the pitch and the tar?” inquired the lady, with a curl of the lip which indicated her horror.
“Certainly; but we think pitch and tar are not half so defiling as evil thoughts and bad manners.”
“They are very, very disagreeable. The odor of tar and pitch is intolerable.”
“We do not find it so, for—”
“I say, I wish to know what the fellows do.”
“We are accustomed to the odor of them,” continued the principal. “To some people the scent of musk, and even otto of roses, is not pleasant; and, for my part, I rather enjoy that of tar and pitch.”
“That is very, very singular. But Clyde desires to know what the young gentlemen do,” added the lady, glancing at her son, behind whom stood the man in livery, as though he were the boy’s exclusive property.