“Certainly, you may rely on me.”
“That is one thing I wanted to say. You see, sir, we have but just come into your house, and already, last night, Jamie was tempted to disobey me, and take what I thought unadvisable, so—I have been turning it over and over in my head—I thought I would like to come to a clear understanding with you, Mr. Menaida. It seems ungracious in me, but you must pity me. I have now all responsibility for Jamie on my head, and I have to do what my conscience tells me I should do; only, I pray you, do not take offence at what I have said.”
“Fudge! my dear; you are right, I dare say.”
“And now that I have your promise—I have that, have I not?”
“Yes, certainly.”
“Now I want your opinion, if you will kindly give it me. I have no father, no mother, to go to for advice; and so I venture to appeal to you—it is about Captain Coppinger.”
“Captain Coppinger!” repeated Uncle Zachie, screwing up his brows and mouth. “Umph! He is a bold man who can give help against Captain Coppinger, and a strong man as well as bold. How has he wronged you?”
“Oh! he has not wronged me. It is I who have hurt him.”
“You—you!” Uncle Zachie laughed. “A little creature such as you could not hurt Captain Cruel!”
“But, indeed, I have; I have thrown him down and broken his arms and some of his bones.”