“I thank you for all this, Edward, but—”
“Don’t, don’t say no, Sir John—in a hurry,” cried the man imploringly. “You only know what I can do from what you’ve seen; and you know that having a willing heart and ’and ’s half-way to doing anything.”
“Yes,” said his master with a smile; “I know too that you’re a very handy person.”
“Hope so, Sir John; but I’m obliged to stick up for myself, as there’s no one here to do it for me. There ain’t nothing you want done that I can’t do. Father was a gamekeeper and bailiff and woodman, and when I was a boy I used to help him, cutting hop-poles with a bill-hook, felling trees with an axe, and I’ve helped him to make faggots, hurdles, and stacks, and tents, and thatched. I’ve helped him many a time use the drag and the cast-net, fishing. I can set night lines, and I had a gun to use for shooting rabbits and varmint, and I learned to skin and stuff ’em. We’ve got cases and cases at home. I used to wash out the master’s guns, and dry and oil them; and as for lighting fires and cooking, why, I beg your pardon for laughing, Sir John, but my mother was ill for years before she died, and I always did all the cooking. Then I’ve had a turn at gardening and stable work; and as for the water, I can row, punt, or sail any small boat. I don’t say as I could tackle a ship, but if there was no one else to do it, I’d have a try; and—beg pardon, Sir John, there’s the front-door bell.”
“Go and answer it,” said Sir John quietly.
“And if you would think it over, Sir John—”
“Go and answer the bell.”
The man darted out, and Sir John turned to his son to gaze at him for a time.
“You’re a pretty good scholar for your age, Jack,” he said; “but I wish you possessed some of Edward’s accomplishments.”
“Oh, father!” cried the boy hastily.