"Yes, go on," cried Philip; while I saw Courtenay turn yellow with rage
at the cold bitter words Mr Solomon used. "Take away your pauper--take
care of your gentleman--go and chain him up, and give him his skilly.
Go on! take him to his kennel. Oh, I say, Courtenay--a gentleman! What
a game!"
I followed Mr Solomon with my face wrinkled and lips tightened up, till
he turned round and looked at me and then clapped his hand on my
shoulder.
"Bah!" he said laughing; "you are not going to mind that, my lad. It
isn't worth a snap of the fingers. I wish, though, you hadn't said
anything about being a gentleman."
"So do I, sir," I said. "It slipped out, though, and I was sorry when
it was too late."
"Never mind; and don't you leave your work for them. Now come and have
a look at my cucumber house, and then--ha, ha, ha! there's something
better than skilly for dinner, my boy."
I found out that Mr Solomon had another nature beside the one that
seemed cold.