Part 32 (2/2)
”Well, now, you allers contrive to get the better of me, you and Mr.
Johnnie, you're so sharp! But, anyhow, I could earn my own living before I was your age, and neither of you can. Then, there's hardly a year as I don't gain a prize.”
”I'm like a good clock,” said Crayshaw, ”I neither gain nor lose. I can strike, too. But how did you find out, sir, that I never gained any prizes?”
”Don't you, sir?”
”Never, sir--I never gained one in my life, sir. But I say, I wish you'd take these shavings down again.”
”No, I won't,” answered Swan, ”if I'm to be 'sirred' any more, and the young ladies made to laugh at me.”
”Let Swanny alone, Cray,” said Gladys. ”Be as conservative as you like, Swan. Why shouldn't you? It's the only right thing.”
”Nothing can be very far wrong as Old Master thinks,” answered Swan. ”He never interfered with my ways of doing my work either, no more than Mr.
John does, and that's a thing I vally; and he never but once wanted me to do what I grudged doing.”
”When was that?” asked Mr. Augustus John.
”Why, when he made me give up that there burial club,” answered Swan.
”He said it was noways a moral inst.i.tootion; and so I shouldn't have even a decent burying to look forward to for me and my wife (my poor daughters being widows, and a great expense to me), if he hadn't said he'd bury us himself if I'd give it up, and bury us respectably too, it stands to reason. Mr. John heard him.”
”Then, thath the thame thing ath if he'd thaid it himthelf,” observed Johnnie, answering the old man's thought about a much older man.
”Did I say it wasn't, sir? No, if ever there was a gentleman--it's not a bit of use argufying that all men are ekal. I'm not ekal to either of them two.”
”In what respect?” asked Crayshaw.
”In what respect? Well, sir, this is how it is. I wouldn't do anything mean nor dishonest; but as for them two, they couldn't. I never had the education neither to be a gentleman, nor wished to. Not that I talk as these here folks do down here--I'd scorn it. I'm a Sunbury man myself, and come from the valley of the Thames, and talk plain English. But one of my boys, Joey,” continued Swan, ”talking of wishes, he wished he'd had better teaching. He's been very uppish for some time (all his own fault he hadn't been more edicated); told his mother and me, afore he sailed for the West Indies, as he'd been trying hard for some time to turn gentleman. 'I shall give myself all the airs that ever I can,' he says, 'when once I get out there.' 'Why, you young a.s.s!' says I, 'for it's agen my religion to call you a fool (let alone your mother wouldn't like it), arn't you awear that giving himself airs is exactly what no real gentleman ever does?' 'A good lot of things,' says he, 'father, goes to the making of a gentleman.' 'Ay, Joey,' says I, 'but ain't a gentleman a man with good manners? Now a good-manner'd man is allers saying by his ways and looks to them that air beneath him, ”You're as good as I am!” and a bad-manner'd man is allers saying by his ways and looks to them that air above him, ”I'm as good as you air!” There's a good many folks,' I says (not knowing I should repeat it to you this day, Mr. Crayshaw), 'as will have it, that because we shall all ekally have to be judged in the next world, we must be all ekal in this. In some things I uphold we air, and in others I say we're not. Now your real gentleman thinks most of them things that make men ekal, and t'other chap thinks most of what makes them unekal.'”
”Hear, hear!” said Johnnie. ”And what did Joey thay to that, Thwan?”
”He didn't say much,” answered Swan in his most pragmatical manner. ”He knows well enough that when I'm argufying with my own children (as I've had the expense of bringing up), I expect to have the last word, and I have it. It's dinner-time, Mr. Johnnie; will you pa.s.s me out my pipe? I don't say but what I may take a whiff while the dinner's dis.h.i.+ng up.”
”It was very useful, Swan,” said Gladys. ”No doubt it made Miss Crampton think that Cray smokes.”
”My word!” exclaimed Swan, ”it was as good as a play to see him give himself those meek airs, and look so respectful.”
He went down, and the two little boys came up. They had been turned out of Parliament, and had spent the time of their exile in running to the town, and laying out some of their money in the purchase of a present for Crayshaw; they were subject to humble fits of enthusiasm for Crayshaw and Johnnie. They came in, and handed him a ”Robinson Crusoe”
with pictures in it.
Crayshaw accepted it graciously.
”You must write my name in it,” he observed, with exceeding mildness, ”and mind you write it with a soft G.”
”Yes, of course,” said little Hugh, taking in, but hesitating how to obey.
<script>