"Do they, sir, really? Well, they ought to know; but all the same I feel as if I want to improve mine." "Let it alone, Ned," said the boy drearily. "No, sir, I can't do that, when there's such a chance in one's way." "Chance! What for?" said Jack, whose interest was awakened by the man's earnestness. "That's what I'm telling you, sir, a chance to improve myself." "How?" "Well, you see, sir, I've got ears on my head." "Of course you have." "And can't help hearing, sir, a little of what's said." "Look here, Ned," cried Jack, "I'm unwell; my head aches, and I'm very much worried. Tell me what it is that you want as briefly as you can." "Well, sir, begging your pardon, sir, I couldn't help hearing that Sir John and you and the doctor's going abroad." "Yes, Ned," said Jack moodily; "we're going abroad." "Well, sir, I'd thank you kindly if you'd speak a word to master for me." "What, about a character? There is no need, Ned; you will stay here till we come back--if ever we do," he added bitterly. "Oh, you'll come back right enough, sir. But don't you see that's just what I don't want, unless I can come back too." "What do you mean, Ned? Can't you see that you are worrying me dreadfully?" "I am sorry, sir, for if there's a thing I can't abear, it's being talked to when I've got one o' them stinging 'eadaches. But I keep on explaining to you, sir. Don't you see? I want you to speak a word to Sir John about taking me with you." "You!" cried Jack. "You want to go with us round the world?" "Now, Master Jack," cried the man reproachfully, "would you like to spend all your days cleaning knives and boots and shoes, when it wasn't plate and waiting at table?" "No, of course not; but you must be mad to want to do such a thing as go upon this dreadful journey." "Dreadful journey! My word of honour, Master Jack, you talking like that!" cried the man. "You talking like that!" he repeated. "A young gent like you! Well, I'm about stunned. Do you know it would be about the greatest treat a body could have?" "No, I don't," said Jack shortly. "It means nothing but misery and discomfort. A rough life amongst rough people; no chance to read and study. Oh, it would be dreadful." "Well!" exclaimed the man; and again, "Well! You do cap me, sir, that you do. Can't you see it means change?" "I don't want change," cried Jack petulantly. "Oh, don't you say that, sir," cried Edward reproachfully; "because, begging your pardon, it ain't true." "What! Are you going to begin on that silly notion too? I tell you I am not ill." "No, sir, you're not ill certainly, because you don't have to take to your bed, and swaller physic, and be fed with a spoon, but every bit of you keeps on shouting that you ain't well." "How? Why? Come now," cried the boy with more animation, as he snatched at the opportunity for gaining an independent opinion of his state. "But stop: has my father or Doctor Instow been saying anything to you?"