“Well, master’s no better,” said Sam. “Look at the trouble I have with him to keep him decent. If I didn’t watch him he’d put on anything. I can’t even keep a book out of his hand when I’m cutting his hair. Only yesterday he gives a duck down to cut the leaf of his book just at an awk’ard moment, and of course in goes the point of the scissors.”
“Serve him right!” said cook.
“And what do you think he said?”
“Oh, don’t ask me.”
“Nothing; and I dabbed the place and put a bit o’ black court-plaister on his ear, and I don’t hardly believe he even knew of it.”
“I’m not surprised,” said cook indignantly. “Them two read and read till they’re a pair of regular old scribums. Anyone would think they were old ancient men instead of being— How old is master?”
“Six years older than me.”
“And you’re six-and-twenty.”
“Yes.”
“And a fine, handsome man too.”