board, a good-sized map of the world, as was known to be the latest, a table and a chair for Bunkins, and a sturdy case well filled with books.
Reaching the closed door of the room, I listened at it and heard Bunkins reading —haltingly, yet reading nevertheless —from the first volume of Robin-don Criuoe, with which I had gifted him at Christmas. I was most favorably impressed.
I retired to a place nearby, though to the far side of the hall; it would not do to be found with my ear to the door. There I considered what Black Jack Bilbo had said to me about the matter at hand. Indeed, Bunkins must have a> say as to Annie’s joining the class. He had a great fondness for Mr. Burnham. He might well hesitate; or, giving his assent, later find he wished he had not. Ah, it was a touchy business! Perhaps if I were to remind him that I had gladly shared with him Mr. Perkins’s tutelage in self-defense, he would acknowledge that the comparison was a just one and decide accordingly. Perhaps—
But the handle to the schoolroom door had turned. The door swung open, and out came Bunkins with Mr. Burnham close behind. Both were smiling; it was thus evident Bunkins had recovered from his pique at having lost out on the rat-catching demonstration. So it was, yet hoping some bit of it might remain to be seen, he was sore disappointed to learn from me that it was done but for the cleaning up. Yet he took it in a manner most stoical — in fact, with a shrug.
“Ah well,” said he, “I’ve seen such before. And anytime I want to I can drop in at the King and Castle for a rum session of rat-crapping. If you’ve a mind, I’ll take you along one night.”
“Could be, Jimmie B.,” said I agreeably. “But I came by thinking you might be for a ramble this fine day.”
“That hits me right rum, but I must first ask the cove and grab my toggy and my calp.”
Then said Mr. Burnham, who had been witness to our exchange: “And you must be back in good time for your afternoon lessons.” Spoke with a smile it was, and not with a frown.
“Oh, I will right certain, sir. Never doubt me.”
“Well said,” laughed his tutor. “I’ve had no reason to doubt thus far.”
Then with a nod Bunkins left us and hurried down the hall to search for Mr. Bilbo. I looked then to Mr. Burnham, cream-coffee-colored, a true mulatto Jamaica-born, half English and half African; and of a sudden I realized I’d said nothing to anyone at Number 4 Bow Street of that, nor of his history—not to Annie, nor to Sir John, nor to Lady Fielding. Would it matter to any of them? Should I wait and make all this clear at home before bringing up the topic for which I’d come? Then did I decide firmly that it wouldn’t concern them, because it shouldn’t.
“Mr. Burnham, I have a question to put before you,” said I.
“And what might that be?”
Again I summarized the matter; this time, however, I told him more of Annie, mentioning that she was bright, eager beyond telling to learn, and already quite capable in her own regard as the cook for our little household.
“The cook is she?”
“Yes sir.”
“My mother is a cook. I believe that of all my accomplishments, that which mattered to her most was my ability to read. From it, she said, came all else. And she was right, of course.” It was only then that he turned his eyes to me.
“It would be very difficult for me to turn down a cook who wished to learn letters.”
“Then you will take Annie?” said I, all excited.
“Then I would try her,” said he. “I’ve no doubt she is as bright and eager to achieve as you say, but there is the question of how she will fit with Master Bunkins. I must also ask permission from Mr. Bilbo.”
“I’ve already sought that from him,” said I. “He gave it, but said only that he had no objection. He said the real decision must come from you and Bunk-ins. I mean to talk to Jimmie B. on our ramble.”
“Do that,” said he. “Let his be the deciding
Reaching the closed door of the room, I listened at it and heard Bunkins reading —haltingly, yet reading nevertheless —from the first volume of Robin-don Criuoe, with which I had gifted him at Christmas. I was most favorably impressed.
I retired to a place nearby, though to the far side of the hall; it would not do to be found with my ear to the door. There I considered what Black Jack Bilbo had said to me about the matter at hand. Indeed, Bunkins must have a> say as to Annie’s joining the class. He had a great fondness for Mr. Burnham. He might well hesitate; or, giving his assent, later find he wished he had not. Ah, it was a touchy business! Perhaps if I were to remind him that I had gladly shared with him Mr. Perkins’s tutelage in self-defense, he would acknowledge that the comparison was a just one and decide accordingly. Perhaps—
But the handle to the schoolroom door had turned. The door swung open, and out came Bunkins with Mr. Burnham close behind. Both were smiling; it was thus evident Bunkins had recovered from his pique at having lost out on the rat-catching demonstration. So it was, yet hoping some bit of it might remain to be seen, he was sore disappointed to learn from me that it was done but for the cleaning up. Yet he took it in a manner most stoical — in fact, with a shrug.
“Ah well,” said he, “I’ve seen such before. And anytime I want to I can drop in at the King and Castle for a rum session of rat-crapping. If you’ve a mind, I’ll take you along one night.”
“Could be, Jimmie B.,” said I agreeably. “But I came by thinking you might be for a ramble this fine day.”
“That hits me right rum, but I must first ask the cove and grab my toggy and my calp.”
Then said Mr. Burnham, who had been witness to our exchange: “And you must be back in good time for your afternoon lessons.” Spoke with a smile it was, and not with a frown.
“Oh, I will right certain, sir. Never doubt me.”
“Well said,” laughed his tutor. “I’ve had no reason to doubt thus far.”
Then with a nod Bunkins left us and hurried down the hall to search for Mr. Bilbo. I looked then to Mr. Burnham, cream-coffee-colored, a true mulatto Jamaica-born, half English and half African; and of a sudden I realized I’d said nothing to anyone at Number 4 Bow Street of that, nor of his history—not to Annie, nor to Sir John, nor to Lady Fielding. Would it matter to any of them? Should I wait and make all this clear at home before bringing up the topic for which I’d come? Then did I decide firmly that it wouldn’t concern them, because it shouldn’t.
“Mr. Burnham, I have a question to put before you,” said I.
“And what might that be?”
Again I summarized the matter; this time, however, I told him more of Annie, mentioning that she was bright, eager beyond telling to learn, and already quite capable in her own regard as the cook for our little household.
“The cook is she?”
“Yes sir.”
“My mother is a cook. I believe that of all my accomplishments, that which mattered to her most was my ability to read. From it, she said, came all else. And she was right, of course.” It was only then that he turned his eyes to me.
“It would be very difficult for me to turn down a cook who wished to learn letters.”
“Then you will take Annie?” said I, all excited.
“Then I would try her,” said he. “I’ve no doubt she is as bright and eager to achieve as you say, but there is the question of how she will fit with Master Bunkins. I must also ask permission from Mr. Bilbo.”
“I’ve already sought that from him,” said I. “He gave it, but said only that he had no objection. He said the real decision must come from you and Bunk-ins. I mean to talk to Jimmie B. on our ramble.”
“Do that,” said he. “Let his be the deciding
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