'I hope I shall not come too often,' I returned, looking round at its
bright snug appearance. A square of dark carpet covered part of the
red-tiled floor; the round deal table in the centre was hidden under a
crimson cloth, and two big elbow-chairs stood on each side of the wide
fireplace. Nathaniel sat in one, with a little round table in front of
him, covered with books and papers, with a small lamp for his own use.
Mrs. Barton's work-box and mending-basket were on the centre table, the
hearth had just been swept up, there was a smell of hot bread, and a row
of freshly-baked loaves were cooling on the dresser; the firelight shone
on the gleaming pewter and brass utensils, and a great tabby cat sat
purring on the elbow of Nathaniel's chair. I thought he seemed a little
confused at my entrance, for he got up rather awkwardly and shuffled his
papers together, so I took pity on his embarrassment, and only spoke to
Mrs. Barton.
She took me into the little outer kitchen to show me where she did her
cooking, and I asked her in a low voice what he was studying.
'He does a little of everything,' she said, with a sort of suppressed
pride in her voice. 'Sometimes it is history, and oftener summing; he
will have it that a man cannot have too much learning, and that he wants
to improve himself; he is always fretting because he never had a chance
when he was young, all along of his having to work when his poor father
died, and so he is all for making up for lost time; sometimes Dr.
Hamilton comes in and helps him with the Latin and--what do you call
those figures?'
I suggested mathematics, and she nodded assent.
'Oh, Nat is a sight cleverer already than his master,' she went on. 'I am
thinking that if he goes on learning more and more, that Mr. Roberts will
be taking him into the business some day. Nat is a sort of foreman now,
for his master thinks a deal of Nathaniel, and no wonder, for it is not
only his learning, and his sitting up late, and getting up early in the
winter's morning, and creeping downstairs without his boots so as not
to wake me; for all he is such a good son; but I will say it, that there
is not a young man in these parts that can beat Nat,' finished the little
widow, in a broken voice.
I said I was glad to hear it, for she evidently expected me to say
something; and then I asked how long Dr. Hamilton had given him lessons
in Latin and mathematics. She was only too ready to tell me, and seemed
pleased at my interest.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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