“No, Sir John, not ill, cert’nly,” said the man.
“There, father!” cried Jack excitedly, and with a grateful look at their servant, but it faded out directly.
“He ain’t no more ill than I am, Sir John, if I may make so bold. It’s only that he wants stirring up. He reads and reads over the fire till he can’t hardly see for the headache, and it’s what I told him just now, he’s all mopey like for want of change.”
“Humph! You told him that?” said Sir John sharply.
“Yes, Sir John,” faltered the man. “I know it was not my place, and I beg pardon. It slipped out quite promiskus like. I know now I oughtn’t. It made Master—Mister Jack angry, and he chucked the book at me. Not as I minded the act, for I was glad to see he’d got so much spirit in him.”
“And so you would like to go with us?”
“Oh yes, Sir John,” cried the man, flushing with excitement. “But you wouldn’t want me to go in livery, of course?”
“No,” said Sir John quietly. “I should not want you to go in livery. I cannot consent to take you at all.”
“Oh, sir!” cried the man appealingly.
“I am not sorry to hear you make the application, for it shows me that you are satisfied with your position as my servant. But the man I should select to take with us must be a strong active fellow.”