“Thank you, sir,” said the doctor, as he stood erect now, and his words were followed by a low sigh as if of satisfaction.
“Yes, I ought to have spoken, boys,” continued the baronet, “but you mustn’t set it down as being dishonourable. Why, you ought to have heard me chuckling softly as I lay back there in the darkness, listening. Why, Robertson, this isn’t flattery; you have a most astounding memory, and I must compliment you upon the way in which you retain things and then give them out again so that they seem to be life-like and real. And so you have always had a great desire to be a traveller?”
“Always, sir,” said the doctor gravely.
“Hah! And fate has so arranged it that you were to be a student instead, and doomed you to pass your existence drumming learning into the brains of a couple of the stupidest, wooden-headed boys I know.”
“Oh, I say, dad, only one! I am sharp enough; you said so yourself; and poor old Dozey can’t help being such a sleepy-headed fellow.”
“Eh? What’s that?” cried Sir James. “You will show him whether you are sleepy-headed when you get up into your room!”
“Then he shouldn’t say such things, uncle.”
“Ha, ha!” laughed Sir James. “But really, my dear Robertson, you have taken me quite by surprise. You would like to travel?”
“I must confess I should, Sir James; but pray don’t give me the credit of being discontented with my lot. The three years that I have passed at the manor, gladdened as they have been by your consideration and perfect trust, have been happy ones to me.”
“Oh, tut, nonsense, my dear sir! When you came here I laid down the law to myself that for the first month I would lie low, as the Yankees call it, and see what sort of a fellow you were; and at the end of that time I was perfectly satisfied with my good fortune in obtaining your services. I said to myself, ‘The doctor’s a high-class University man, and he can turn those two boys into English gentlemen—manly gentlemen—far better than I can. He will have a terribly hard job to lick the young cubs and shape them properly, so don’t interfere.’ And I haven’t, have I, doctor? No—no, don’t say anything. I know what it would be, so hold your tongue. I will say, though, here in the darkness so as to spare the boys, doctor, that I think it’s a pity that besides the metaphorical licking that the old bears are said to use to shape their cubs, I did not begin by giving you the power to give them now and then what schoolboys call ‘the real’ licking.”