“You are not, sir,” cried Sir John, “and never will be if you spend all your time over books.”
The lad gave him a sad, weary look.
“I thought you wanted me to study hard, father,” he said reproachfully.
“Yes, yes, my boy, I do, and I should like to see you grow up into a distinguished man, but you are trying to make yourself into the proverbial dull boy.”
“Am I? And I have worked so hard,” said the lad in a weary, spiritless way.
“Yes; it’s all work and no play with you, Jack, and it will not do, boy. When I was your age I was captain of our football club.”
Jack shuddered.
“I often carried out my bat at cricket.”
The lad sighed.
“I could stick on anything, from a donkey up to an unbroken colt; throw a ball as far as any of my age, and come in smiling and ready for a good meal after a long paper-chase.”