“Do they, sir—Bill?” I said wonderingly.
“There, now you’re getting innocent again,” he said sharply. “You don’t mean to tell me as you don’t understand that?”
“Oh yes, I do: you mean that they would have to get up very early to master you—say at daybreak.”
“What a young innocent you are,” he cried, laughing; and then seeing my pained look, he slapped me on the shoulder again. “It’s all right, my boy. You can’t help it; and you’ll soon learn all these things. I know a lot, but so do you—a sight o’ things I don’t. Why, I’ll be bound to say you could write a long letter without making a single mistake in the spelling.”
“Yes, I think I could,” I said innocently. “Both papa and mamma took great pains with me over that.”
“Look at that, now!” he said. “Why, I couldn’t write two lines in my pocket-book without putting down something as the sergeant would chaff.”
“Chaff?” I said, “cut-up stuff for horses?”
“Yes: that’s it,” he said, grinning. “Stuff as they cut up. There, you’ll soon know what chaff is, my lad. But, you know, all the same, and speaking quite fair, I do maintain as spelling ain’t square.”
“Not square?”
“I mean fair and square and above-board. Them as invented spelling couldn’t have been very clever, or they’d have made everything spelt as it sounded. Why, it only seems natural to spell doctor’s stuff f-i-z-z-i-k, and here you have to stick in p’s, and h’s, and y’s, and s’s, and c’s, as ain’t wanted at all.”