“Why, of course,” cried Poole. “What are you on board the schooner for?”
“Oh, nothing at all, sir—only to stop leaks and recaulk, cut sticks out of the woods to make new spars and yards, build a new boat now and then, or a yard or two of bulwark or a new keel. Just a few little trifles of that sort. It’s just like so much play. Here’s the very last of them. Nice little job ashore by way of a change. Skipper’s fresh idea. He didn’t say so, but seems to me as if he means to retire from business, and this ’ere’s going to be his country house.”
“And a very nice place too,” said Fitz, laughing. “It only wants doing up.”
“That’s right, sir,” cried the carpenter; “only just wants doing up, and a bit of paint, and then all you’d have to do would be to order a ’technicum van or two of new furniture out of Totney Court Road, or elsewhere. And an other nice little job for me to lay down the carpets and hang the picturs, and it would be just lovely.”
“Well, you seem in a nice temper, Chips,” said Poole.
“Temper, Mr Poole! Why, I feel as soft and gentle as a baby. I arn’t got nothing to grumble at.”
“And if you had you are the very last person in the world to say a word; eh, Chips?”
“Hear that, Mr Burnett, sir? That’s Mr Poole, that is! He’s known me two years and a narf, which means ever since he come on his first voyage, when I teached him how to handle an adze without cutting off his pretty little toes. If ever I wanted my character, Mr Burnett, sir, I should refer captains and other such to Mr Poole Reed, as knows me from the top of my head down to the parts I put lowest in my shoes.”
“Look here, Chips, I want you to get to work. Whatever is the matter now?”
“Oh, nothing at all, sir; nothing at all! Carn’t you see how I am smiling all over my face?”