“That I didn’t, sir. I give it to poor old Jenk to make a pie. I never tasted it.”
“Then you may catch as many as you like, Ben, without asking.”
“Thank you, sir; but I don’t want to go eeling now. Here, let’s have all this fighting-tackle so as you can see your face in it. But I say, my lad, do ’ee, now do ’ee, alter your mind; leave being statesman to them soft, smooth kind o’ fellows like Master Pawson.”
“I don’t see why one couldn’t be a statesman and a soldier too,” said the boy.
“I don’t know nothing about that sort, sir; but I do know how to handle a sword or to load a gun. I do say, though, as you’re going wrong instead of right.”
“How?”
“How, sir? Just look at your hands.”
“Well, what’s the matter with them?” said the boy, holding them out.
Ben Martlet uttered a low, chuckling laugh.
“I’ll tell you, sir. S’pose any one’s badly, and the doctor comes; what does he do first?”