"Couldn't you ask God to help you to remember?" he said earnestly.
"Oh, yes; of course I could!" was the more cheerful response. "That's a good idea of yours, Jack. I'll ask Him to-night."
[CHAPTER XIII.]
THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH.
MR. BARTON spent the greater part of his time in fishing in the river Dart. He was a keen sportsman, and often passed long, solitary days engaged in his favourite recreation; sometimes, however, he took the boys with him. They thoroughly enjoyed the novelty at first, but after a while they found it slow work watching Mr. Barton flogging the stream, and found amusements which suited them better.
One of the first acquaintances they made at Naraton was Seth Stanley, the village blacksmith. He was a dark, stern-visaged man of middle age, with a very tender heart beneath a rough exterior. The first occasion on which he and the boys met, was when the latter accompanied Mr. Fry to the blacksmith's shop in order to see Boxer, the farmer's favourite horse, shod.
Boxer was a sort of general factotum, if such a term may be applied to a horse. It was his duty to perform odd jobs upon the farm, and make himself generally useful. Mr. Fry drove him to a neighbouring market town every week in a roomy, old-fashioned gig, and often he carried the farmer many miles to fetch a flock of sheep, or a herd of cattle. He was really an invaluable animal, for when required he did not disdain to do a little ploughing, or draw a cart. The boys were greatly surprised when they learnt that Boxer was sixteen years old, for he had plenty of spirit yet; and having always been well fed and carefully tended, did not look his age. Mr. Fry had owned him since he had been a colt, and looked upon him in the light of an old friend.
After Boxer had been carefully fitted with new shoes, the farmer led him off, whilst the boys still lingered outside the blacksmith's shop. Seth Stanley invited them to sit down on a long stool which was placed inside the doorway. He kept the stool there on purpose for his visitors, for he dearly loved to get some of the villagers in to talk with him. A very kindly gossip was Seth Stanley, and a most fascinating place was his shop, with its immense fire and steaming forge.
Theodore and Jack accepted the invitation to "step inside and sit down for a few minutes," with alacrity, watching the blacksmith in his leathern apron with admiring eyes whilst he took a bar of iron from the fire, and sent the sparks flying upwards as he placed it on the anvil and beat it with his hammer.
"Oh, Theo," whispered Jack, "isn't he strong? Wouldn't you like to be a blacksmith? I should!"