“That waiting,” he went on, “puts me in mind of the farmer and his corn in the fable—get out, cats!—he waited till he found that the proper thing to do was to get his sons to work and cut the corn themselves.”
“Yes, sir,” I said smiling; “and then the lark thought it was time to take her young ones away.”
“Good, lad; right!” he cried. “That fable contains the finest lesson a boy can learn. Don’t you wait for others to help you: help yourself.”
“I’ll try, sir.”
“That’s right. Ah! I wish I had always been as wise as that lark.”
“Then you would not wait if you were me, sir?” I said, looking up at him wonderingly.
“Not a week, my lad, if you can get anything to do. Fact is, I’ve been looking into it, and your relations are all waiting for each other to take you in hand. There isn’t one of them wants the job.”
I sighed, and said:
“I’m afraid I shall be a great deal of trouble to them, sir, and an enormous expense.”
“Oh, you think so, do you!” he said, stooping down and lifting up first one cat and then another, stroking them gently the while. Then one of them, as usual, leaped upon his back. “Well, look here, my boy,” he said thoughtfully, “that’s all nonsense about expense! I—”