“Yes, repair if you will, as to the weak parts, sir. And as to playing at soldiers, we may look a little awkward at first, as we are not used to our weapons and arms; but that will soon pass off, and you will have to join us, and do your best.”
“That’s so!” growled Ben, whose face began to lighten up a little as Roy spoke out so firmly.
Master Pawson turned upon the old soldier with his eyebrows raised in a look of surprise.
“My good man,” he said, “will you please to recollect your position here.”
Ben saluted, and drew himself up as stiff as a pike.
“Nonsense, my dear boy!” continued Master Pawson; “this is all foolish vanity, and I am sure that, when you have thought it over coolly, you will see that it is childish for you, a boy, to imagine that you can do any good by making this silly display. Why, you must have been reading some old book of chivalry and warlike adventure. If you only knew how ridiculous you look with that long sword buckled on, you would soon take it off. You look almost as absurd as Rogers here; I thought some scarecrow had been stuck up by the gate.”
“Yes, sir; that’s right,” growled Ben. “Scarecrows who were going to scare off all the crows as try to peck at his majesty the king.”
“Silence, Martlet!” cried Roy, sharply. “It is not your place to speak to Master Pawson like that.”
“I should think not,” said the secretary, with his face flushing slightly.
“Beg pardon, sir, a slip: not mutiny,” said Ben.