Part 23 (2/2)
”I mean to,” said Christopher with shut teeth and an intonation that reminded both men of Peter Masters himself.
”We are all of us Roadmakers of one kind or another,” went on Mr.
Aston meditatively, ”making the way rougher or smoother for those who come after us. Happy if we only succeed in rolling in a few of the stones that hurt our own feet.”
”You _are_ rather like a steam roller,” remarked Aymer quietly, ”it hadn't struck me before.”
Mr. Aston rumpled his hair distractedly and Christopher giggled.
”I wasn't talking of myself at all,” said Mr. Aston hastily. ”I was merely thinking of you making things smooth for Christopher. You are much more like a steam roller than I am. You are bigger.”
Christopher began to laugh helplessly, and Aymer protested rather indignantly.
”I deny the likeness. But if rolling has to be done, it is better to do it heavily, I suppose. Whose roads shall we roll, Christopher?”
Christopher looked up, suddenly grave.
”What do you mean, Caesar?”
”You say everyone should have a chance and my father insists we are bound by some unknown Board of Guardians to level our neighbours'
roads, so where will you start?”
”On Sam Sartin!”
He sat upright, his face glowing, looking straight at Caesar. Caesar's tone might be flippant, but if he meant what Christopher supposed him to mean, he must not let the golden opportunity slip.
”I thought Sam was in a greengrocer's shop,” said Caesar in a drawling, indifferent manner.
”So he is. But would anyone be in a greengrocer's shop if they could be in anything else? When we were kids, he and I, we used to plan we'd be Lord Mayors--A greengrocer!”
”An honest and respectable calling, if a little dirty,” murmured Mr.
Aston. ”The greengrocers, I mean not the Lord Mayors.”
”Sam's got a head on his shoulders. He's really awfully sharp. He could be anything he liked,” urged Christopher. ”Could you help him, Caesar?”
”You might if you liked.”
”Make what I like of him?”
”No. Most emphatically, no. Make what he likes of himself. A crossing sweeper, if he fancies that. Buy him a crossing and a broom, you know.”
”But really, what he likes; not joking?”
”Sober earnest. I'll see to-morrow, and tell you. Now, will you kindly find that place you were looking for when we were so inopportunely interrupted with irrelevant moralisings.”
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