“Well, you must tell him that you’re needed here. What kind of a man is this Mr. Sopworthy?”
“He’s a leery cove, he is, me dad says. He ain’t one as’ll squeak beef on you, but it’s pound dealing with him, else he goes up in the boughs—proper, he does!”
“If that means that he’s an honest man, I fancy I had best make his acquaintance. I gather you don’t think he’d be likely to inform against your dad, so we shall tell him that your dad’s been called away for a few days, and left me to take his place. I’m a cousin of yours,” said the Captain.
“He won’t never swallow a rapper like that!” objected Ben. “He ain’t no chub! He’d know you was a flash cull, sure as check!”
“Not he!” grinned John.
“Soon as you opens your mummer, he will!” insisted Ben. “’Cos you talks flash, and you got a lot of cramp-words, like all the gentry-coves.”
“I’ll take care not to use ’em,” promised John.
“Yes, and what about that mish you got on, and them stampers?” demanded Ben, quite unconvinced.
“If you mean my shirt, I am going to buy some others, in Tideswell, and a stout pair of brogues as well. Don’t shake your head at me! I’ve been discharged from the Army, understand? Trooper, 3rd Dragoon Guards—and batman (that means a servant) to an officer. That’s how I come to talk a trifle flash. You remember that, and we shall come off all right!”
Ben looked dubious, but all he said was: “What’ll I call you, gov’nor?”