Part 58 (1/2)

”I'm very sorry, father, I am indeed,” he would say.

”n.o.body doubts your sorrow, d.i.c.k,” cried Mr Temple; ”but what I want is less sorrow and more care. You blunder on at everything instead of making a bit of a calculation first so as to see what you are about to do.”

”Well, I will, father, I will really. I'll always in future be as careful as--careful as--careful as Taff.”

d.i.c.k had been looking round the room for an example of care, and this suggested itself.

Mr Temple smiled, and bent down over his minerals so that his boys should not see his face, as he noticed Arthur's ears turn red and a nervous twitch go through him preparatory to his looking up from his book.

”No,” said Mr Temple, ”I do not wish you to be as careful as Arthur, my boy, or to take anyone else for a model. Be just your own natural self, and do your best to run straight on your journey through life. Don't try to run like others run; it may not always be in a good style.”

Arthur's eyes fell upon his book once more, and his ears became of a very deep crimson as he felt injured and touched in his dignity.

”Papa might have said _yes_, and told d.i.c.k to imitate me,” thought Arthur; and he went on with his reading, feeling very much ill used.

”Mr Marion would like to speak to you, sir,” said the landlord, coming in just then.

”What, Will?” cried d.i.c.k eagerly.

”No, Master Richard. I shouldn't have called him Mr Marion,” said the landlord, smiling. ”It's the old gentleman. May I show him in, sir?”

”Yes, certainly;” and Uncle Abram came in, looking like a Finnan haddock in a glazed hat, for on account of the weather the old man was clothed from head to foot in yellow oilskins, and shone and twinkled with the drops of spray.

”Sarvant, sir,” he said, making dabs with his s.h.i.+ny sailor's hat as if to knock the drops off. ”Sarvant, young gentleman,”--this was to Arthur, who rose and bowed stiffly--”how do, Master d.i.c.k, how do?”

Uncle Abram beamed and shook d.i.c.k's hand heartily, seeming loth to loose it again, but he relented and turned to Mr Temple.

”You'll excuse me, sir, for coming when you're busy; but it's to help a neighbour out of a difficulty.”

”Subscription?” said Mr Temple.

”Subscription?” said Uncle Abram, dragging a great silk handkerchief from inside his oilskin and wiping the drops of spray from his face.

”It was about your lodgings here, sir.”

”My lodgings?” said Mr Temple.

”Yes, sir. You see neighbour here didn't like to speak to you 'bout the matter, and I said I would. Fact is, four fish-buyers from London come down here to stay with him every year regular all through the season, and you've got their rooms.”

”Oh! I have their rooms?” said Mr Temple.

”That's it, sir, that's it,” said Uncle Abram; ”and when neighbour let 'em to you he thought you only wanted 'em for a few days.”

”And I've been here for a few weeks.”

”Toe be sure,” said Uncle Abram.

”And he wants me to turn out, eh?” said Mr Temple rather sternly, while d.i.c.k's countenance fell.

”Turn out arn't the word, sir,” said Uncle Abram. ”We don't do that sort o' thing to gentlemen down here in the west countree. Man to man-- give and take--do to one another as you'd like one another to do unto you. That's our motter down here, sir. And neighbour he told me his difficulty. 'Nice gentleman, Mr Temple,' he says. 'Master Arthur a bit stiff, but Master d.i.c.k--there,' he says, says neighbour, 'you know what Master d.i.c.k be.' And I said I did, and I went home and had a chat with my nevvy Will, and then I attacked the missus, and here I be.”