“First, show me what ye were going to show me,” said the old man. “Where’s this sky you’ve been manufacturing?”
“It’s on the ground, sir.”
“On the ground! And are ye for turning earth into heaven among your other trades?” What this might mean Jan knew not; but he led his friend round, and pointed out the features of his leaf-picture. He hoped for praise, but the old man was silent,—long silent, though he seemed to be looking at what Jan showed him. And when he did speak, his broken words were addressed to no one.
“Wonderful! wonderful! The poetry of ’t. It’s no child’s play, this. It’s genius. Ay! we mun see to it!” And then, with clasped hands, he cried, “Good Lord! Have I found him at last?”
“Have you lost something?” said Jan.
But the old man did not answer. He did not even speak of the leaf-picture, to Jan’s chagrin. But, stroking the boy’s shoulder almost tenderly, he asked, “Did ye ever go to school, laddie?”
Jan nodded. “At Dame Datchett’s,” said he.
“Ah! ye were sorry to leave school for pig-minding, weren’t ye?”
Jan shook his head. “I likes pigs,” said he. “I axed Master Salter to let me mind his. I gets a shilling a week and me tea.”
“But ye like school better? Ye love your books, don’t ye?”