CHAPTER XXVI. RICHARD AND ALICE.
One evening Richard went to see his grandfather, and asked if he would allow him to give Miss Wylder a lesson in horseshoeing: she wanted, he said, to be able to shoe Miss Brown—or indeed any horse. Simon laughed heartily at the proposal: it was too great an absurdity to admit of serious objection!
“Ah, you don't know Miss Wylder, grandfather!” said Richard.
“Of course not! Never an old man knew anything about a girl! It's only the young fellows can fathom a woman! Having girls of his own blinds a man to the nature of them! There's going to be a law passed against growing old! It's an unfortunate habit the world's got into somehow, and the young fellows are going to put a stop to it for fear of losing their wisdom!”
As the blacksmith spoke, he went on rasping and filing at a house-door key, fast in a vice on his bench; and his words seemed to Richard to fall from his mouth like the raspings from his rasp.
“Well, grandfather,” said Richard, “if Miss Wylder don't astonish you, she'll astonish me!”
“Have you ever seen her drive a nail, boy?”
“Not once; but I am just as sure she will do it—and better than any beginner you've seen yet!”
“Well, well, lad! we'll see! we'll see! She's welcome anyhow to come and have her try! What day shall it be?”
“That I can't tell yet.”