“What!” cried Jack angrily; “have you got that silly idea in your head too? How dare you!”
“Beg pardon, sir. Very sorry, sir. Don’t be angry with me, sir. You see I don’t know any better.”
“Then it’s time you did.”
“So it is, Master Jack, so it is; and I want to know better, if you’ll help me.”
“How can I help you?” said Jack, staring at the man.
“Well, you see, sir, it’s like this: I don’t get no chance to improve my mind. Up at six o’clock— No,” cried the man emphatically, “I will speak the honest truth if I die for it! It ain’t much before seven when I begin work, sir, for you see I have such a stiff beard, and it does grow so, I’m obliged to shave reg’lar. Well, say quarter to seven I begin, and it’s boots and shoes. When they’re done it’s hard work to get my knives done before breakfast. Then there’s the breakfast cloth to lay, and the toast to make, and after breakfast master’s and your dress-clothes to brush; and them done, my plate to clean. That brings me up to laying the cloth for lunch, and—”
“Look here, Edward,” cried Jack impatiently, “do you suppose I want to learn all you do in a day?”
“No, sir, of course not. I only wanted you to understand why it is I’ve no time to improve my mind.”
“So much the better for you, Ned,” cried Jack. “I’ve improved mine, and Sir John and the doctor say that I’ve been doing wrong.”
“Do they, sir, really? Well, they ought to know; but all the same I feel as if I want to improve mine.”