“Very good, sir,” I said; but I didn’t like it, and I went down. I said to Harry, “Here’s a nice thing. Mr. Saxon has asked a lunatic to stay with him, and he wants us to look after him!”
That night the gentleman arrived. He was a very thin, very mild, amiable-looking gentleman of about fifty, with long black hair, turning grey.
Mr. Saxon told us he was a literary gentleman and a fine scholar, and had written a great many burlesques, and it was this that had brought him to a lunatic asylum. He certainly was a little odd, and seemed rather nervous. I thought that was on account of his finding himself without any keepers about him.
He spoke very nicely, and laughed a good deal, and seemed a little fidgety and funny; but that was all.
I put him a very blunt knife at dinner, and when he tried to cut his meat with it, he said, “God bless me; this is an awful knife! Give me another, please.”
I looked at Mr. Saxon for instructions; but he shook his head. So I said, “It’s the sharpest we have, sir.”
“Shall I cut your meat up for you, Bob?” said Mr. Saxon.
“No, thank you,” said the gentleman; and he made another try; but he groaned over it and went quite hot, and kept saying, “God bless me!” and muttering to himself.
He and Mr. Saxon sat and smoked pipes all the evening, and they went to bed early, Mr. Saxon telling me not to give his friend a candle, as it wasn’t advisable to trust him with fire.
The gentleman asked for a candle. But I said I was very sorry, but all the candles were engaged.