nder your hat."

"All right," said Syd, sitting down in the middle of the place on the
top of his sea-chest; "but you needn't have fetched that. I had some in
here."

"Do for next time," said Roylance, cutting off a large piece of
plaister.

"Oh, nonsense," said Syd, laughing; "a quarter of that would do. I
could do it myself if I could see."

Just then Terry came swaggering up, and Roylance winced, the scissors
with which he was cutting the plaister trembling a little.

"Oh, look here, Master Roy," said Terry, haughtily. "You made some
remarks to me in the night about that cutting down of the hammock. I
want an apology from you."

"I'm busy now, Mr Terry," said Roylance; and the irritable feeling
which troubled Syd seemed to be on the increase.

"I didn't ask you if you were busy, sir, I said I wanted an apology,"
continued Terry, while the rest of the mess looked on excitedly at the
promising quarrel between the two eldest middies on board the _Sirius_.

"I'm attending to this new messmate's hurt."

"Let him go to the doctor if he is hurt," snarled Terry. "I tell you I
want an apology. You as good as said that I cut down this cub's hammock
last night."

"If I had quite said it, I dare say I shouldn't have been far wrong,"
replied Roylance, in a low tone.

"Oh, indeed, miss," sneered Terry, "you always were clever with your
tongue, like the long thin molly you are. Now then, take that back
before--"

He ceased speaking and doubled his fists.

Syd felt as if he were sitting on a fire, and something within him was
beginning to boil.

"I'm not going to apologise now," said Roylance, wincing a little, but
speaking more determinedly than before.

"Arn't you? Then I'm going to make you," said Terry. "Bolton, go to
the bottom of the ladder and give warning."

"No, no; send Jenks," said the boy addressed, appealingly.

"You go, and do as you're told," said Terry, fiercely; and Syd felt as
if he must boil over soon, no matter how much he was hurt.

"Now then, Miss Roylance, if you please, I'm waiting," said Terry, in an
offensive way. "You're such a talker that you can easily make a nice
apology."

Roylance went on cutting and sticking the piece of plaister.

"Do you hear me, sir?" cried Terry, "or am I to set Baby Jenks to thrash
you?"

"Stand up, Belton," said Roylance, quietly. "Now then, turn a little
more to the light;" and Sydney rose.

"Stand aside, youngster. I want to give Miss