Great Uncle Hoot-Toot Part 12

"He'd need to get used to starting early of a morning if he was to be any use to me," he said half-grudgingly. But even this sounded hopeful to Geoff.

"Oh, I don't mind getting up early," he said quickly. "I'm not used to lying in bed late."

"There's early _and_ early," said the farmer. "What I might take you on trial for would be to drive the milk-cart to and fro the station.

There's four sendings in all--full and empty together. And the first time is for the up-train that pa.s.ses Shalecray at half-past five."

Geoff shivered a little. But it would not do to seem daunted.

"I'll be punctual," he said.

"And of course, between times you'd have to make yourself useful about the dairy, and the pigs--you'd have to see to the pigs, and to make yourself useful," repeated the farmer, whose power of expressing himself was limited.

"Of course," agreed Geoff as heartily as he could, though, truth to tell, the idea of pigs had not hitherto presented itself to him.

"Well," Farmer Eames went on, turning towards Jowett, "I dunno as I mind giving him a trial, seeing as I'm just short of a boy as it happens.

And for the station work, it's well to have a sharpish lad, and a civil-spoken one. You'll have to keep a civil tongue in your head, my boy--eh?"

"Certainly," said Geoff, but not without a slight touch of haughtiness.

"Of course I'll be civil to every one who's civil to me."

"And who isn't civil to thee, maybe, now and then," said the farmer, with a rather curious smile. "'Twon't be all walking on roses--nay, 'twon't be all walking on roses to be odd boy in a farm. But there's many a one as'd think himself uncommon lucky to get the chance, I can tell you."

"Oh, and so I do," said Geoff, eagerly. "I do indeed. I think it's awfully good of you to try me; and you'll see I'm not afraid of work."

"And what about his character?" said the farmer, speaking again to Jowett. "Can you answer for his honesty?--that's the princ.i.p.al thing."

Geoff's cheeks flamed, and he was starting forward indignantly, when a word or two whispered, sternly almost, in his ear by Jowett, forced him to be quiet. "Don't be an idiot! do you want to spoil all your chances?"

he said. And something in the tone again struck Geoff with surprise. He could scarcely believe it was the simple young countryman who was speaking.

"I don't think you need be uneasy on that score," he said. "You see it's all come about in a rather--uncommon sort of way."

"I should rather think so," said the farmer, shrugging his shoulders, but smiling too.

"And," pursued Jowett, "you'll have to stretch a point or two. Of course he'll want very little in the way of wages to begin."

"Half-a-crown a week and his victuals," replied the farmer, promptly.

"And he must bind himself for three months certain--I'm not going to be thrown out of a boy at the orkardest time of the year for getting 'em into sharp ways. And I can't have no asking for holidays for three months, either."

Jowett looked at Geoff.

"Very well," said Geoff.

"And you must go to church reg'lar," added the farmer. "You can manage it well enough, and Sunday school, too, if you're sharp--there's only twice to the station on Sundays."

"On Sundays, too?" repeated Geoff. Sundays at worst had been a day of no work at home.

"To be sure," said Eames, sharply. "Beasts can't do for themselves on Sundays no more than any other day. And Londoners can't drink sour milk on Sundays neither."

"No," said Geoff, meekly enough. "Of course I'm used to church," he added, "but I think I'm rather too old for the Sunday school."

"I'll leave that to the parson," said the farmer. "Well, now then, we may as well see if dinner's not ready. It's quite time, and you'll be getting hungry, Mr. Jowett," he added, with a slight hesitation.

"Why not call me Ned? You're very high in your manners to-day, Eames,"

said the other, with a sort of wink.

Then they both laughed and walked on, leaving Geoff to follow. Nothing was said about _his_ being hungry.

"Perhaps _I_ shall be expected to dine with the pigs," he thought.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

[Ill.u.s.tration]

CHAPTER IX.

PIGS, ETC.

It was not quite so bad as that, however. Farmer Eames turned in at the farmyard gate and led the two strangers into a good-sized kitchen, where the table was already set, in a homely fashion, for dinner. A stout, middle-aged woman, with a rather sharp face, turned from the fire, where she was superintending some cooking.

"Here we are again, wife," said Eames. "Glad to see dinner's ready. Take a chair, Mr. Ned. You'll have a gla.s.s of beer to begin with?" and as he poured it out, "This here's the new boy, missis--I've settled to give him a trial."

Mrs. Eames murmured something, which Geoff supposed must have been intended as a kind of welcome. She was just then lifting a large pan of potatoes off the fire, and as she turned her face to the light, Geoff noticed that it was very red--redder than a moment before. He could almost have fancied the farmer's wife was shy.

"Shall I help you?" he exclaimed, darting forward to take hold of the pan.

Eames burst out laughing.

"That's a good joke," he said. "He knows which side his bread's b.u.t.tered on, does this 'ere young fellow."

Geoff grew scarlet, and some angry rejoinder was on his lips, when Jowett, who to his great indignation was laughing too, clapped him on the shoulder.

"Come, my boy, there's naught to fly up about. Eames must have his joke."

"I see naught to laugh at," said Mrs. Eames, who had by this time shaken the potatoes into a large dish that stood ready to receive them; "the lad meant it civil enough."

"You're not to spoil him now, wife," said her husband. "It's no counter-jumpers' ways we want hereabouts. Sit thee down, Ned; and Jim, there, you can draw the bench by the door a bit nearer the dresser, and I'll give you some dinner by-and-by."

Geoff, his heart swelling, did as he was bid. He sat quietly enough, glad of the rest and the warmth, till Mr. and Mrs. Eames and their guest were all helped, and had allayed the first sharp edge of their appet.i.tes. But from time to time the farmer's wife glanced at Geoff uneasily, and once, he felt sure, he saw her nudge her husband.

"She means to be kind," thought the boy.

And her kindness apparently had some effect. The farmer looked round, after a deep draught of beer, and pushed his tankard aside.

"Will you have a sup, Jim?" he said good-naturedly. "I can't promise it you every day; but for once in a way."