"I have."
"Not in the Greek, of course."
"Yes," said I, smiling, "though by dint of much labor."
The Tinker stopped chewing to stare at me wide-eyed, then swallowed his mouthful at one gulp.
"Lord love me!" he exclaimed, "and you so young, too!"
"No," said I; "I'm twenty-five."
"And Latin, now—don't tell me you can read the Latin."
"But I can't make a kettle, or even mend one, for that matter," said I.
"But you are a scholar, and it's a fine thing to be a scholar!"
"And I tell you again, it is better to be a tinker," said I.