“Shut up,” said the captain; “I’m not talking to you.”
It was hardly to be wondered at if he was out of temper. He was having any amount of extra work to do; and to be thus obstructed by one of his own colleagues was a trifle too much for his limited patience.
Felgate coloured up at the rebuff, knowing well enough that the captain would be delighted to make good his words at any time and place which might be offered him. He remained after he had gone, and said to Arthur—
“That’s what I call brutal. You’re not going to care two straws what he says?”
“All very well,” said Arthur, stroking his puppy; “if he sends me up to Pony, what then?”
“Bless you, he won’t send you up to Pony.”
“Think not? If I thought he wouldn’t, I’d hang on till Marky comes back. He’d square the thing.”
“Of course he would. It’s a bit of spite of Ainger’s. He thinks he’s not quite important enough, so he’s going to start bullying. I’ll back you up.”
“Thanks, awfully,” said the ductile Arthur. “You’re a brick. I’d take your advice.”
He did, and prevailed upon Dig to do the same.