“Yes, sir. Breakfast’s ready, sir, such as it is. What’s the matter with you? I never had such a job to waken you before.”
“I—I was very sound asleep,” stammered Fred, rising hastily. “Did—did I say anything?”
“Pitched an ugly word at my head about not being so brave as you thought I ought to be, that’s all.”
“Don’t take any notice of what I said, I must have been dreaming.”
“That’s what I often wake up and feel I’ve been doing,” said Samson. “I often don’t know whether I’m on my head or my heels; it seems so strange. Wonder how that Nat is. He always gets the best of it. Lying there with nothing to do. Just his way, sir, curling himself up snug, and letting other people do his work. There you are, sir, bucket of clean water from the lake. Have a good wash, and you’ll feel like a new man. What a difference it must make to you, sir, dressing yourself out here, after having your comfortable room at home, and you so near it, too. Why, sir, the colonel might have told you to go home to sleep. Say, sir!”
“Well?” said Fred, taking his head out of the bucket of clear cold water, and feeling afterwards, as he rubbed himself dry, that new life was running through his veins.
“Wouldn’t it be nice for you to run down to the Manor to breakfast, sir, and bring back a few decent things to eat? I wouldn’t mind coming with you and carrying the basket.”
Fred looked hard at Samson, whose face was perfectly stolid for a few moments; but a little ripple gradually spread over his left cheek, and increased till it was a broad grin.
“Well, sir, you see it is so tempting. I’d give anything for a bowl of new warm milk. When are we going to have a good forage again, so as we might catch some chickens and ducks or a young pig?”
“I’m afraid there’ll be other work on hand to-day, Samson,” replied Fred, sadly, as he glanced in the direction of the Hall. “There, take away that bucket.”