"Oh, she says I was poorly, does she? Then she lies: I wasn't poorly,—I was drunk. I want you to read to me."
"Must I read in that book Mr. Prigley gave me when he came?"
"Read what you please."
So little Jacob opened for the first time a certain volume which will be recognized by every reader when he begins:—
"'The way was long, the wind was cold.
The minstrel was infirm and old.'"
"That would be difficult," said Mr. Ogden.
"What, papa?"
"I say, it would be difficult."
Little Jacob felt rather frightened. He did not understand in what the supposed difficulty consisted, and yet felt that he was expected to understand it. He did not dare to ask a second time for enlightenment on the point, so he stood quite still and said nothing. His father waited a minute in perfect silence, and then burst out,—
"Why, you little confounded blockhead, I mean that it would be difficult for a man to be infirm and bold at the same time! Infirm people are timid, commonly."