FullReads

“Here you are Gran! Here you are godfather! More of ’em! I’ll read. And though you wrote ’em for me, godfather, I know you won’t disapprove of my making ’em over to Gran; will you?”

“No, my dear boy,” says the Major. “Everything we have is hers, and we are hers.”

“Hers ever affectionately and devotedly J. Jackman, and J. Jackman Lirriper,” cries the Young Rogue giving me a close hug. “Very well then godfather. Look here. As Gran is in the Legacy way just now, I shall make these stories a part of Gran’s Legacy. I’ll leave ’em to her. What do you say godfather?”

“Hip hip Hurrah!” says the Major.

“Very well then,” cries Jemmy all in a bustle. “Vive the Military English! Vive the Lady Lirriper! Vive the Jemmy Jackman Ditto! Vive the Legacy! Now, you look out, Gran. And you look out, godfather. I’LL read! And I’ll tell you what I’ll do besides. On the last night of our holiday here when we are all packed and going away, I’ll top up with something of my own.”

“Mind you do sir” says I.

CHAPTER II–MRS. LIRRIPER RELATES HOW JEMMY TOPPED UP

Well my dear and so the evening readings of those jottings of the Major’s brought us round at last to the evening when we were all packed and going away next day, and I do assure you that by that time though it was deliciously comfortable to look forward to the dear old house in Norfolk Street again, I had formed quite a high opinion of the French nation and had noticed them to be much more homely and domestic in their families and far more simple and amiable in their lives than I had ever been led to expect, and it did strike me between ourselves that in one particular they might be imitated to advantage by another nation which I will not mention, and that is in the courage with which they take their little enjoyments on little means and with little things and don’t let solemn big-wigs stare them out of countenance or speechify them dull, of which said solemn big-wigs I have ever had the one opinion that I wish they were all made comfortable separately in coppers with the lids on and never let out any more.

“Now young man,” I says to Jemmy when we brought our chairs into the balcony that last evening, “you please to remember who was to ‘top up.'”

“All right Gran” says Jemmy. “I am the illustrious personage.”

But he looked so serious after he had made me that light answer, that the Major raised his eyebrows at me and I raised mine at the Major.

“Gran and godfather,” says Jemmy, “you can hardly think how much my mind has run on Mr. Edson’s death.”

It gave me a little check. “Ah! it was a sad scene my love” I says, “and sad remembrances come back stronger than merry. But this” I says after a little silence, to rouse myself and the Major and Jemmy all together, “is not topping up. Tell us your story my dear.”

“I will” says Jemmy.

“What is the date sir?” says I. “Once upon a time when pigs drank wine?”

“No Gran,” says Jemmy, still serious; “once upon a time when the French drank wine.”

Again I glanced at the Major, and the Major glanced at me.

“In short, Gran and godfather,” says Jemmy, looking up, “the date is this time, and I’m going to tell you Mr. Edson’s story.”

The flutter that it threw me into. The change of colour on the part of the Major!

“That is to say, you understand,” our bright-eyed boy says, “I am going to give you my version of it. I shall not ask whether it’s right or not, firstly because you said you knew very little about it, Gran, and secondly because what little you did know was a secret.”