"Well, my little fellow," he said, "what's this you're about?"
The boy looked up in his face, and blushed and smiled at the same time, but made no reply, conceiving one unnecessary, as his employment was sufficiently evident. There was in that single look of the boy's, however, an expression of openness and intelligence that at once caught Mr M'Donald's fancy; and he immediately added, good-naturedly, "Where are all these ships going to?"
The boy again looked up in his face and laughed, but now vouchsafed a reply:—
"To the West Indies, sir, for cargoes of rum and sugar."
This was spoken in pretty fair English, though strongly tinctured with the Celtic accent.
"Indeed!" rejoined Mr M'Donald; "my word, but you are an extensive trader, if it be the case, as I have no doubt it is, that all these fine ships are your own. What's your name, my little fellow?"
"Duncan M'Arthur, sir."
"Are you at school?"
"Yes, sir; I'm just now on my way home from it."
"What are you learning there?"