"Oh, is that you, Master Tom?" as they turned a corner to find
themselves face to face with Tom Selwyn.

"Mr. King," Tom began very rapidly so that the words ran all over each
other, "I'm no end sorry--don't think hard things of me--it's not my
fault this time; Grandfather heard it as well as I--at least, I caught
a little and he asked me what it was, and I had to tell him, and it
upset him."

Old Mr. King stood gazing into the big boy's face in utter
bewilderment. "As I don't know in the least what you are trying to tell
me, my boy," at last he said, "I shall have to ask you to repeat it,
and go slowly."

So Tom tried again to tell his story, and by the time that it was all
out, Mr. King was fuming in righteous indignation.

"Well, well, it's not worth thinking of," at last he said at sight of
the flashing eyes before him and the angry light on the young face.
"You take my arm, or I'll take yours, Master Tom,--there, that's
better,--and we'll do a bit of a turn on the deck. Your grandfather'll
come out of it, for he's busy over the backgammon board. But it was an
ugly thing to do just the same."

Just then Mrs. Vanderburgh and Fanny passed them, all sweet smiles for
him and for Phronsie, but with no eyes for the boy.