“But I can’t, sir. Here’s Mr Bob Murray, who’s a good enough steward, valeting you and Sir John, and of course he can’t do it properly.”
“Nonsense. He is very good and attentive.”
“Pooh, sir! So could any chap in the ship be good and attentive, but what’s the use of that if he don’t understand his work?”
“Why, there’s nothing to understand.”
“Oho! Isn’t there, sir! Don’t you run away with that idea. There’s a lot. It seems nothing to you because things go so easy with you and the guv’nor. You find your clean shirts and fresh socks all ready laid out at the proper time, and you put ’em on just as you do your clothes, and think it’s nothing; but all the time there’s some one been there thinking it out first. Cold and dull morning; these trousers and that silk shirt won’t do, and warmer ones are there. Going to be a scorching hot day, and it’s the thinnest things in the bunks. Then don’t I manage the buttons the same? and when did you ever find a button off anywhere?”
“No, I never did, Ned.”
“There! I suppose you think, sir, that when a button’s knocked off another one comes up like a mushroom in the night; but you take my word for it, sir, buttons don’t come up so how, and it’s never having no troubles like that to a gentleman that means having a good valet. I don’t say nothing about holes in socks or stockings, because when it gets to that a gentleman ought to give ’em away. No, sir, it won’t do. Every man to his trade, and I’m fretting to get back to my work, for it wherrits me to have other people meddling with my jobs. I don’t believe I shall find a thing in its place.”
“Never mind all that, Ned. I’ve got something to tell you.”
“Have you, sir? Let’s have it.”
“I don’t know what you’ll say to it.”