“No!” said Jem, opening his eyes very wide. “And I don’t intend to be one either. I intend to make a good living, and perhaps become a rich man.”
“Don’t, Jem,” said Violet, softly. She meant “Don’t vex Miss Bethia,” as Jem very well knew, but he only laughed and said:
“Don’t do what? Become a rich man? or a worshipper of mammon? Don’t be silly, Letty.”
“Jem’s going to be a blacksmith,” said Edward. “You needn’t laugh. He put a shoe on Mr Strong’s old Jerry the other day. I saw him do it.”
“Pooh,” said Jem. “That’s nothing. Anybody could do that. I am going to make a steam-engine some day.”
“You’re a smart boy, if we are to believe you,” said Miss Bethia. “Did Mr Strong know that the blacksmith let you meddle with his horse’s shoes? I should like to have seen his face when he heard it.”
“One must begin with somebody’s horse, you know. And Peter Munro said he couldn’t have done it better himself,” said Jem, triumphantly.
“Peter Munro knows about horseshoes, and that’s about all he does know. He ought to know that you might be about better business than hanging about his shop, learning no good.”
“Horseshoes no good!” said Jem, laughing.
“Jem, dear!” pleaded Violet.