CHAPTER THREE.
EARLY ASPIRATIONS.
One pleasant summer afternoon, Mr Wright, coming in from the office,seated himself beside his composed little wife, who was patching a pairof miniature pantaloons.
"Nan," said the husband, with a perplexed look, "what _are_ we to dowith our Robin when he grows up?"
"George," answered the composed wife, "don't you think it is rather soonto trouble ourselves with that question? Robin is a mere child yet. Wemust first give him a good education."
"Of course, I know that," returned the perplexed husband, "still, Ican't help thinking about what is to be done after he has had the goodeducation. You know I have no relation in the world except brotherRichard, who is as poor as myself. We have no influential friends tohelp him into the Army or the Navy or the Indian Civil Service; and theChurch, you know, is not suitable for an imp. Just look at him _now_!"
Mrs Wright looked through the window, over one of those sunnylandscapes which are usually described as "smiling," across a windingrivulet, and at last fixed her gorgeous eyes on a tall post, up which asmall black object was seen to be struggling.
"What can he be up to?" said the father.
"He seems to be up the telegraph-post," said the mother, "investigatingthe wires, no doubt. I heard him talking about telegraphy to Madge thismorning--retailing what cousin Sam tries to teach him,--and I shouldn'twonder if he were now endeavouring to make sure that what he told herwas correct, for you know he is a thorough investigator."
"Yes, I know it," murmured the father, with a grim pursing of his lips;"he investigated the inside of my watch last week, to find out, as hesaid, what made the noise in its `stummick,' and it has had intermittentfever ever since. Two days ago he investigated my razor,--it is nowequal to a cross-cut saw; and as to my drawers and papers, exceptingthose which I lock up, there is but one word which fully describes theresult of his investigations, and that is--chaos."
There was, in truth, some ground for that father's emotions, for MasterRobin displayed investigative, not to say destructive, capacities far inadvance of his years.
"Never mind, George," said Mrs Wright soothingly, "we must put up withhis little ways as best we may, consoling ourselves with the reflectionthat Robin has genius and perseverance, with which qualities he is sureto make his way in the world."
"He has at all events made his way up the telegraph-post," said MrWright, his smile expanding and the grimness of it departing; "see! therascal is actually stretching out his hand to grasp one of the wires.Ha! hallo!"
The composed wife became suddenly discomposed, and gave vent to ascream, for at that moment the small black object which they had beenwatching with so much interest was seen to fall backward, make a wildgrasp at nothing with both hands, and fall promptly to the ground.
His father threw up the window, leaped out, dashed across thefour-feet-wide lawn, cleared the winding rivulet, and cut, like a huntedhare, over the smiling landscape towards the telegraph-post, at the footof which he picked up his unconscious though not much injured son.
"What made you climb the post, Robin?" asked his cousin Madge thatevening as she nursed the adventurous boy on her knee--and Madge was avery motherly nurse, although a full year younger than Robin.
"I kimed it to see if I could hear the 'trissity," replied the injuredone.
"The lek-trissity," said Madge, correcting. "You must learn top'onounce your words popperly, dear. You'll never be a great man if youare so careless."
"I don't want to be a g'eat man," retorted Robin. "I on'y wantt'understand things whats puzzlesum."
"Well, does the telegraph puzzle you?"
"Oh! mos' awfully," returned Robin, with a solemn gaze of his earnesteyes, one of which was rendered fantastic by a yellow-green ring roundit and a swelling underneath. "I's kite sure I's stood for hours besidedat post listin' to it hummin' an hummin' like our olianarp--"
"Now, Robin, _do_ be careful. You know mamma calls it an olian _harp_."
"Yes, well, like our olian _h_arp, only a deal louder, an' far nicer.An' I's often said to myself, Is that the 'trissity--?"
"Lek, Robin, lek!"
"Well, yes, _lek_-trissity. So I thought I'd kime up an' see, for, youknow, papa says the 'trissity--lek, I mean--runs along the wires--"
"But papa also says," interrupted Madge, "that the sounds you want toknow about are made by the vi--the vi--"
"Bratin'," suggested the invalid.
"Yes, vibratin' of the wires."
"I wonder what vi-bratin' means," murmured Robin, turning his lustrousthough damaged eyes meditatively on the landscape.
"Don'no for sure," said Madge, "but I think it means tremblin'."
It will be seen from the above conversation that Robert Wright and hisprecocious cousin Marjory were of a decidedly philosophical turn ofmind.