Part 41 (2/2)
”That's that you called me? I didn't quite catch on to it.”
”Mr. Holden. Isn't that your name?”
”Don't call me mister. I'm plain Jack Holden. Call me Jack.”
”I will if you prefer it,” said Herbert, dubiously.
”Of course I do. We don't go much on style in the woods. Won't you come home with me, and take a look at my cabin? I ain't used to company, but we can sit down and have a social smoke together, and then I'll manage to find something to eat.”
”Thank you, Mr. Holden--I mean, Jack--but I must be getting home; Mr.
Melville will be feeling anxious, for, as it is, I shall be late.”
”Is Mr. Melville, as you call him, any way kin to you?”
”No; he is my friend and employer.”
”Young man?”
”Yes; he is about twenty-five.”
”How long have you two been out here?”
”Not much over a week.”
”Why isn't Melville with you this morning?”
”He is in delicate health--consumption--and he gets tired sooner than I do.”
”I must come over and see you, I reckon.”
”I hope you will. We get lonely sometimes. If you would like to borrow something to read, Mr. Melville has plenty of books.”
”Read!” repeated Jack. ”No, thank you. I don't care much for books. A newspaper, now, is different. A man likes to know what's going on in the world; but I leave books to ministers, schoolmasters, and the like.”
”If you don't read, how do you fill up your time, Jack?”
”My pipe's better than any book, lad. I'm goin' to set down and have a smoke now. Wish I had an extra pipe for you.”
”Thank you,” said Herbert, politely, ”but I don't smoke.”
”Don't smoke! How old are you?”
”Sixteen.”
”Sixteen years old, and don't smoke! Why, where was you raised?”
”In the East,” answered Herbert, smiling.
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