Percival Keene | Page 7

that I went to school.
One evening the whole of the family were seated at tea in the back
parlour. I was sitting very quietly and demurely in a corner, a sure sign
that I was in mischief, and so indeed I was (for I was putting a little
gunpowder into my grandmother's snuff-box, which I had purloined,
just that she might "smell powder," as they say at sea, without danger
of life or limb), when the old woman addressed my mother--
"Bella, is that boy never going to school? it will be the ruin of him."
"What will be the ruin of him, mother?" rejoined my aunt Milly; "going
to school?"
"Hold your nonsense, child: you are as bad as the boy himself," replied
granny. "Boys are never ruined by education; girls sometimes are."
Whether my mother thought that this was an innuendo reflecting upon
any portion of her own life, I cannot tell; but she replied very tartly.

"You're none the worse for my education, mother, or you would not be
sitting here."
"Very true, child," replied granny; "but recollect, neither would you
have married a marine--a private marine, Bella, while your sister looks
up to the officers. Ay," continued the old woman, leaving off her
knitting and looking at her daughter, "and is likely to get one, too, if
she plays her cards well--that Lieutenant Flat can't keep out of the
shop." (My granny having at this moment given me an opportunity to
replace her snuff-box, I did not fail to profit by it; and as I perceived
her knitting-pin had dropped on the floor, I stuck it into the skirt of her
gown behind, so that whenever she looked for it, it was certain ever to
be behind her.)
"Mr Flat is of a very respectable family, I hear say," continued my
grandmother.
"And a great fool," interrupted my mother. "I hope Milly won't listen to
him."
"He's an officer," replied my granny, "not a private."
"Well, mother, I prefer my private marine, for I can make him do as I
please; if he's a private, I'm commanding officer, and intend so to be as
long as I live."
"Well, well, Bella, let us say no more on the old score; but that boy
must go to school. Deary me, I have dropped my needle."
My grandmother rose, and turned round and round, looking for her
needle, which, strange to say, she could not find; she opened her
snuff-box, and took a pinch to clear her optics. "Deary me, why, what's
the matter with my snuff? and where can that needle be? Child, come
and look for the needle; don't be sticking there in that corner."
I thought proper to obey the order and pretended to be very diligent in
my search. Catching aunt Milly's eye, I pointed to the knitting-needle
sticking in the hind skirts of my grandmother's gown, and then was

down on my knees again, while my aunt held her handkerchief to her
mouth to check her laughter.
A minute afterwards, Ben the marine first tapped gently, and then
opened the door and came in; for at that late hour the officers were all
at dinner, and the shop empty.
"There are three parcels of books for you to take," said my mother; "but
you've plenty of time, so take down the tea-things, and get your tea in
the kitchen before you go."
"You haven't got a shilling, Bella, about you? I want some 'baccy," said
Ben, in his quiet way.
"Yes, here's a shilling, Ben; but don't drink too much beer," replied my
mother.
"Deary me, what can have become of my needle?" exclaimed my
grandmother, turning round.
"Here it is, ma'am," said Ben, who perceived it sticking in her skirt.
"That's Percival's work, I'll answer for it."
My granny received the needle from Ben, and then turned to me: "You
good-for-nothing boy; so you put the needle there, did you? pretending
to look for it all the while; you shall go to school, sir, that you shall."
"You said a needle, granny; I was looking for a needle: you didn't say
your knitting-pin; I could have told you where that was."
"Yes, yes, those who hide can find; to school you go, or I'll not stay in
the house."
Ben took the tea-tray out of the room. He had been well drilled in and
out of barracks.
"I'll go down in the kitchen to father," cried I, for I was tired of sitting
still.

"No, you won't, sir," said my mother, "you naughty boy; the kitchen is
not the place for you, and if ever I hear of you smoking a pipe again--"
"Captain Bridgeman smokes," replied I.
"Yes, sir, he smokes cigars; but a child like you must not smoke a
pipe."
"And