Johnnie looked at him coldly, though inwardly he felt an extreme pleasure at the sight of his new recruit so lately added to him, so swift to get to work, and withal so blithe about it.
"You must not sing the songs I have heard you singing," he said, shortly. "Don't you know where you are?"
"I had forgotten, sir," the man replied. "I have a plaguey knowledge of rhymes. They do run in my head, and must out."
"They must not, I assure you," Johnnie answered, "but I like this well enough. Hast got thee to work at once, then."
"I love it, sir. To handle such stuff as yours is rare for a man like me. Look you here, sir"—he lifted up a small dagger which he withdrew from its sheath of stag's leather, dyed vermilion—"Hear how it ringeth!"
He twanged the supple blade with his forefinger, and the little shivering noise rang out into the room.
The man's keen, brown face was lit up with simple enjoyment. "I love weapons, master," he said, as if in apology.
Johnnie knew at once that here was the man he had been looking for for weeks. The man who cared, the faithful man; but he knew also, or thought he knew, that it was but poor policy to praise a servant unduly.
"Well, well," he said, "you can get on with your work. To-morrow morning, I will see you fitted out as becometh my body servant. To-night you will go below with the other men. I have spoken to the intendant that I have a new servant, and you will have your evening-meat and a place to lie in."
He turned to go.