After a moment of silence, he went on:
“Ye see, I'm careful about all these things. I keep my eyes an' ears open, an' I'm teachin' myself. I'm a kind of a hand-made gentleman, an' that's the most durable kind. But I ain't finished myself yet. You wait; I'll show ye something one o' these days. How do you happen to be on the road?”
I told him my story.
“Don't worry,” he went on. “Mr. James Henry McCarthy will see you through. I try to be benevolent.”
We walked on a little way in silence.
“I suppose you've noticed that I can sling some rather big words,” he remarked, presently. “Well, I always carry a pocket dictionary, an' when I hear a word I like I look it up an' chalk it down in my note-book; helps my conversation. I study it a good deal while I'm travelling. Ye see, I never had a chance to go to school much—just learnt how to read an' write an' cipher a little. My knowledge ain't very superior. Now, that's quite a word—superior. How does it sound?”
“All right,” I answered.
“Never used it before—found it in the book to-day. I've got about forty dollars saved, an' I've learnt thirty new words so 't I can use 'em. When I go home by-an'-by they've got to look up to me.”
The oddness of it all was not lost upon me, young as I was. I think often of the frankness of that young son of America, just beginning to feel his way upward from the plane of lowly poverty and of his kindly heart. I dreamed not then of what he was to do in the world.
“Come into this house with me,” said Mr. McCarthy. “I'll give ye an exposition—ahem! that's one o' my new ones. Pretty fair kind of a farm-house. Wouldn't wonder if there was some old silver in it.”