"I am sure you will find it a great comfort in a little while," I said. "Miles will be here distinctly to help you, and to do whatever you tell him. I think you will find him quick and willing."
"Can't abear boys," growled Nichols. "More trouble than they're worth."
"Still, the work has to be done," I said, "and you cannot do it alone. I doubt if you would care to have a man to help you, even if we could undertake the expense."
No, indeed; Nichols would have objected to a man far more than to a boy, and I knew this well. He mumbled something about "bother of teaching."
Of course it would be a little bother; but then Nichols was not lazy, and I told him so. No doubt, a boy already trained in gardening and in the care of a pony, would be less trouble than a boy who knew almost nothing of either. But there was the question of the Murchisons' need— the pressing necessity that Miles should find something to do. Even if he should, later on, go into his father's trade, which I then thought probable, he had to do what he could for the moment to bring in something; and he would be none the worse in the end for a short training under Nichols. I explained all this, adding, "Besides, think of the boy's courage in saving Master Bertram. That ought to make you willing to take a little extra trouble."
Not even Nichols' love for our Bertram would make the old fellow acknowledge himself in the wrong. What he had once said, that he would stick to, with the obstinacy of an unreasoning mind. However, he understood that, whether he were willing or no, the thing had to be. I wondered privately how the two would get on together. Some patience would be needed on the part of Miles, for Nichols could be surly.
During the first two or three days, matters were not as I wished. Nichols insisted on doing everything himself; and Miles could be seen standing about, unoccupied and rather unhappy. If he offered to do this or that, he was sharply desired to "mind his own business." Once I said to the boy, "Patience, Miles. It will all come right." Further than this I would not at once interfere. Things are sometimes best left to settle themselves.
Bertram was indoors for nearly a week after the accident, thoroughly unwell, but no sooner was he able to go out again, than affairs took a new aspect. If Miles were for a moment unemployed, Bertie was sure to rush up, exclaiming, "You don't want Miles just now, I see, so he can come and do something for me."
"I suppose he isn't here, sir, for nought but play," Nichols would retort, immediately setting Miles to work; and very soon Miles had as much to do as he could manage. He proved himself so apt and obliging, that Nichols speedily learnt his value, and the two became firm friends.
Still, I think that even then the real strength of Miles' affection went out towards Bertram. Everybody loved Bertie, and Miles was no exception. If Bertie wanted him, and Nichols was in a mood to make no objection, the boy's face would gleam with delight. Bertie liked Miles greatly; and the two boys drew together, much after the same fashion that Mrs. Murchison and I drew together; belonging indeed to different positions in life, yet none the less each loving and trusting the other.