Jack, Knave and Fool by Bruce Alexander Read Free Book Online Page B

but indeed it made me feel ashamed that I could only open and close my mouth and pretend to be singing with the rest.”
    “I see. Well, perhaps at a proper rehearsal you could be taught the rest and sing it entire.”
    “P’rhaps,” said she, “but it is long and has many tunes in it. But then, there’s this other thing that shames me even more.”
    “And what is that?”
    Her lower lip trembled, she sniffled a bit, yet she plunged on: “Even when I was singing I could only go ah-ah-ah, for I could not even read the words upon the page. Some of them I made out, for Jeremy has worked with me a bit, but I fear I’m not a good scholar.”
    “She is a good scholar,” said I, seized by guilt and blurting it out. “It is I who am not a good teacher. I lack patience.”
    “I often do myself,” said Sir John. Then did he return to rubbing his chin as he considered the matter. “You wish to learn reading, do you?”
    “More than anything, sir. I feel such a dunce in this house having no letters.”
    Then did a thought strike me, one that should have come months before. “Sir John,” said I, “there is a Mr. Burnham who has worked a wonder in tutoring Jimmie Bunkins. With no more than a few months’ instruction, he has Bunkins reading from the Public Advertiser and has just put him to work on Rob’uwon Crudoe. No teacher before him could bring Bunkins even to the beginnings of literacy.”
    “Is it so?” said he. “Then perhaps you might make an inquiry of this Mr. Burnham. If he were willing to take on another scholar, I would be willing to pay for her tuition—within reason, of course.”
    “Oh, Sir John,” said Annie, “I should be the happiest cook in all London.”
    “And would you then accept the invitation to join the Handel Choir?” asked Lady Fielding, pressing her sudden advantage.
    “Oh, I would, I would. If I could but read the words, I would gladly sing the song.”
    “Fair enough, then. Jeremy,” said Sir John. “Visit Mr. Bilbo’s domicile tomorrow and make inquiries of this fellow Burnham.”
    The next day began as many another. Waking about six, or a little before, I dressed hurriedly to warm myself against the damp winter cold; then did I descend to light the kitchen fire, as was my morning duty. Annie appeared, rubbing her arms and doing a dance upon the kitchen floor to set the blood a-flowing, and then did she set to work. Whilst she put the water on and made tea and hauled down the flitch of bacon to cut from it the rashers for breakfast, she did gush her excitement at the prospect of learning letters from a proper teacher.
    “Not that I don’t appreciate what you did for me, pointing at the words and saying them, as you did, Jeremy old friend.”
    “Yet I cut you off when the Itutitutej of the Law came to me. I had only time for what / wished to do.”
    “You’d a right. Each has his own purposes. Besides, I was then forever after you for this word or that. I know I was a bother.”
    “And I was often ill-tempered when you came to me. It was good of you not to mention that to Sir John.”
    “What would have come of it? Anyways, ‘twas you thought of Mr. Burn-ham.” She hesitated then and gave me a most inquiring look. “Oh, Jeremy, do you think he’ll take me?”
    “Well, I hope so.” Then, thinking upon it more, I said, “Yes. Yes, I think he will.”
    It was about that time that Lady Fielding came down the stairs, dressed as was her usual at breakfast, in slippers, nightgown, and a warm wrapper. She sat down upon a chair and huddled close to the fire, warming her hands. She was early. Sir John usually preceded her, dressed for the day. I wondered at his absence. She accepted a cup of strong tea from Annie with thanks and explained that he had been called downstairs by Constable Benjamin Bailey to attend to some matter but had promised to return for breakfast.
    “It was not so long ago,” said she. “I heard you, Jeremy, on the stairs shortly after. I’ve been