Time had glided on very happily till I was sixteen, and there was some talk of my being sent to a great engineer’s establishment for five or six years to learn all I could before being taken on at our own place in Bermondsey, where Russell and Company carried on business, and knocked copper and brass and tin about, and made bronze, and gun-metal, and did a great deal for other firms with furnaces, and forges, and steam-engines, wheels, and lathes.
My father was “Russell”—Alexander—and Uncle Dick, Uncle Jack, and Uncle Bob were “Company.” The business, as I say, was in Bermondsey, but we lived together and didn’t live together at Canonbury.
That sounds curious, but I’ll explain:—We had two houses next door to each other. Captain’s quarters, and the barracks.
My father’s house was the Captain’s quarters, where I lived with my mother and sister. The next door, where my uncles were, they called the barracks, where they had their bedrooms and sitting-room; but they took all their meals at our table.
As I said before things had gone on very happily till I was sixteen—a big sturdy ugly boy.
Uncle Dick said I was the ugliest boy he knew.
Uncle Jack said I was the most stupid.
Uncle Bob said I was the most ignorant.
But we were the best of friends all the same.
And now after a great deal of discussion with my father, and several visits, my three uncles were seated at the table, and I had asked them about Arrowfield, and you have read their answers.