After he had sent little Hugh to bed that evening he
went upstairs and sat in a staircase window, in full view of Johnnie's
room. Swan was talking by the boy's bedside, while Johnnie seemed well
content to listen. Little notice was taken when he appeared, and the
discourse went on with quiet gravity, and that air of conviction which
Swan always imparted to his words.
"Ay, sir, Mr. Fergus will have it that the cottagers are obstinate
because they wont try for the easy things as he wants them to. The
common garden stuff they show has allers been disgraceful, and yet,
sometimes they interfere with him and take a prize for flowers. 'That
shows they know their own business,' says I; 'it don't follow that
because my parrot can talk, my dog's obstinate because he won't learn
his letters.' 'Mr. Swan,' says he, 'you're so smothered in
illustrations, there's no argufying with you.' Master Johnnie, you was
to drink your beef tea by this time."
"Not just yet. I hate it. Tell me the rest about Fergus."
"'Well,' he said, 'I mean no disrespect to you, Mr.
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