Johnson Quinsey waved his hand.
“Let us not start with any misunderstanding,” said he, with engaging candor. “The fact is, I did not know that such a person as yourself existed before two days ago. Another thing, it is a matter of business, and not yourself that brings me; so you see there is no great honor attached to the matter.”
Ben laughed; there was something about the courier’s blunt way of speech which he liked.
“Why, as to that,” said the boy, “of course I am vastly disappointed. But we’ll pass that by and come to the business without any parleying. I am wanted at headquarters.”
Johnson Quinsey smacked his boot-leg smartly with his thick-stocked whip.
“For a lad,” said he, “you have a clever knack of promptness. I noted that when you answered the call, and I was pleased with it.” He stood gazing at the boy, reflectively. “But,” he resumed, musingly, “I had no notion when I first heard your name that it was that of such a stripling.”
“The stripling stage,” said Ben, good-humoredly, “will pass if given time, Master Quinsey. And remember,” smiling, “that years alone do not give wisdom.”
“Well do I know that, young gentleman,” said the other; “well indeed do I know it. I have seen them who are three times your years, and not once have they been spoken of as I have heard you spoken of.”
“I AM SUMMONED TO HEADQUARTERS”