“Hello, Jim! What’s up? You look excited,” was the blacksmith’s greeting as the lad’s shadow darkened the smithy entrance.
“Read that, will you, Mr. Winters?”
The gentleman put on his “reading specs,” adjusted the yellow slip of paper conveniently, and exclaimed:
“Good enough! Mistress Betty has allowed the darling to accept it then! First rate. Well?”
Then he looked up inquiringly, surprised by the impatience of the boy’s expression.
“Well—of course I sha’n’t go. The idea of loafing for another two, three months is—ridiculous! And what fool would give such a thing as a house-boat to a chit of a girl like our Dorothy?”
Mr. Seth laughed and pointed to the settee.
“Sit down, chap, and cool off. The world is as full of fools as it is of wise men. Which is which depends upon the point of view. I’m sorry to have you number me amongst the first; because I happen to be the stupid man who gave the ‘Water Lily’ and its belongings to little Dorothy. I knew she’d make good use of it, if her aunt would let her accept the gift, and she flatters you, I think, by inviting you to come and engineer the craft. You’ll go, of course.”
Jim did sit down then, rather suddenly, while his face reddened with shame, remembering what he had just called the wise man before him. Finally, he faltered:
“I know next to nothing about a steam engine.”