That Boy of Norcott's

by Charles James Lever

“No, sir, I cannot”

“Nor I, either,” said he, sighing. “Have you been equally neglected inside as out? Have you learned to read?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And to write?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Write my name, then, there, on that piece of paper, and let me see it.”

I drew nigh, and wrote in a fall, bold hand, Roger Norcott.

“Why not Sir Roger Norcott, boy? Why not give me my name and title too?”

“You said your name, sir, and I thought—”

“No matter what you thought. This literalism comes of home breeding,” muttered he to himself; “they are made truthful at the price of being vulgar. What do you know besides reading and writing?”