The old gentleman was evidently highly gratified with the praise bestowed upon his work.
“I am glad you like it,” said he; “I have spent a vast deal of time and work upon it; indeed, it is all I have done since I heard my son was living. I design it as a present for my daughter, if I am ever permitted to see her. It is said, self-praise goes but little ways; yet, when I was working at my trade in England, I had the reputation of doing the best work of any man in the fens, and that is saying a good deal. I used to think, when Charles was growing up, he would make a first-rate workman; but he has found better business than making baskets.”
“He can do anything,” said Ned. “He can make a ship, a bedstead, or a fiddle.”
“He takes that from his mother’s folks. They were shipwrights and joiners; but mine were all basket-makers, from the beginning. I’m going to take my tools, some basket-rods, and dye-stuffs; the rest I have given to a young man who learned his trade of me.”
He then drew from a chest a pair of nice broad-cloth breeches, silk hose, and other things to correspond, a nice pair of shoes, with silver buckles, and, arraying himself, accompanied Ned on board the vessel.
The gale increased as the day wore away.
“There they go,” said the captain, as one of the frigates loosed her topsails and made sail.
“I reckon,” said Walter, “they’ll find that when the cat’s away the mice will play.”