“What is there for me to do, Rodney?” he cried. “I forge a shoe, and I fuller it, and I clip it, and I caulken it, and I knock five holes in it, and there it is finished. Then I do it again and again, and blow up the bellows and feed the forge, and rasp a hoof or two, and there is a day’s work done, and every day the same as the other. Was it for this only, do you think, that I was born into the world?” I looked at him, his proud, eagle face, and his tall, sinewy figure, and I wondered whether in the whole land there was a finer, handsomer man. “The Army or the Navy is the place for you, Jim,” said I. “That is very well,” he cried. “If you go into the Navy, as you are likely to do, you go as an officer, and it is you who do the ordering. If I go in, it is as one who was born to receive orders.” “An officer gets his orders from those above him.” “But an officer does not have the lash hung over his head. I saw a poor fellow at the inn here—it was some years ago—who showed us his back in the tap-room, all cut into red diamonds with the boat-swain’s whip. ‘Who ordered that?’ I asked. ‘The captain,’ said he. ‘And what would you have had if you had struck him dead?’ said I. ‘The yard-arm,’ he answered. ‘Then if I had been you that’s where I should have been,’ said I, and I spoke the truth. I can’t help it, Rod! There’s something here in my heart, something that is as much a part of myself as this hand is, which holds me to it.” “I know that you are as proud as Lucifer,” said I. “It was born with me, Roddy, and I can’t help it. Life would be easier if I could. I was made to be my own master, and there’s only one place where I can hope to be so.” “Where is that, Jim?” “In London. Miss Hinton has told me of it, until I feel as if I could find my way through it from end to end. She loves to talk of it as well as I do to listen. I have it all laid out in my mind, and I can see where the playhouses are, and how the river runs, and where the King’s house is, and the Prince’s, and the place where the fighting-men live. I could make my name known in London.” “How?” “Never mind how, Rod. I could do it, and I will do it, too. ‘Wait!’ says my uncle—‘wait, and it will all come right for you.’ That is what he always says, and my aunt the same. Why should I wait? What am I to wait for? No, Roddy, I’ll stay no longer eating my heart out in this little village, but I’ll leave my apron behind me and I’ll seek my fortune in London, and when I come back to Friar’s Oak, it will be in such style as that gentleman yonder.”