'Who? Why, you,' returned his master. 'What do you mean by making those
horrible faces over your breakfast?'
'Faces are matters of taste, sir,' said Mr Tappertit, rather
discomfited; not the less so because he saw the locksmith's daughter
smiling.
'Sim,' rejoined Gabriel, laughing heartily. 'Don't be a fool, for I'd
rather see you in your senses. These young fellows,' he added, turning
to his daughter, 'are always committing some folly or another. There was
a quarrel between Joe Willet and old John last night though I can't say
Joe was much in fault either. He'll be missing one of these mornings,
and will have gone away upon some wild-goose errand, seeking his
fortune.--Why, what's the matter, Doll? YOU are making faces now. The
girls are as bad as the boys every bit!'
'It's the tea,' said Dolly, turning alternately very red and very white,
which is no doubt the effect of a slight scald--'so very hot.'
Mr Tappertit looked immensely big at a quartern loaf on the table, and
breathed hard.
'Is that all?' returned the locksmith. 'Put some more milk in it.--Yes,
I am sorry for Joe, because he is a likely young fellow, and gains upon
one every time one sees him.
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