Barnabas smiled and shook his head.
"Listen, father," said he, "it has always been the dream and
ambition of my life to better my condition, to strive for a higher
place in the world--to be a gentleman. This was why I refused to
become a pugilist, as you and Natty Bell desired, this was why I
worked and studied--ah! a great deal harder than you ever
guessed--though up till to-day I hardly dared hope my dream would
ever be realized--but now--"
"Now you want to go to London and be a gentleman--hey?"
"Yes."
"Which all comes along o' your reading o' fool book! Why, Lord! you
can no more become a gentleman than I can or the--blunderbuss yonder.
And because why? Because a gentleman must be a gentleman born, and
his father afore him, and his father afore him. You, Barnabas, you
was born the son of a Champion of England, an' that should be enough
for most lads; but your head's chock full o' fool's notions an'
crazy fancies, an' as your lawful father it's my bounden duty to get
'em out again, Barnabas my lad." So saying, John Barty proceeded to
take off his coat and belcher neckerchief, and rolled his shirt
sleeves over his mighty forearms, motioning Barnabas to do the like.
"A father's duty be a very solemn thing, Barnabas," he continued
slowly, "an' your 'ead being (as I say) full o' wild idees, I'm
going to try to punch 'em out again as a well-meaning father should,
so help me back wi' the table out o' the road, an' off wi' your coat
and neckercher."
Well knowing the utter futility of argument with his father at such
a time, Barnabas obediently helped to set back the table, thus
leaving the floor clear, which done, he, in turn, stripped off coat
and neckcloth, and rolled up his sleeves, while his father watched
him with sharply appraising eye.
"You peel well, Barnabas," he nodded. "You peel like a fighting man,
you've a tidy arm an' a goodish spread o' shoulder, likewise your
legs is clean an' straight, but your skin's womanish, Barnabas,
womanish, an' your muscles soft wi' books. So, lad!--are ye ready?
Then come on."
Thus, without more ado they faced each other foot to foot,
bare-armed and alert of eye. For a moment they sparred watchfully,
then John Barty feinted Barnabas into an opening, in that same
moment his fist shot out and Barnabas measured his length on the
floor.
"Ah--I knowed as much!" John sighed mournfully as he aided Barnabas
to his feet, "and 't were only a love-tap, so to speak,--this is
what comes o' your book reading."
"Try me again," said Barnabas.
"It'll be harder next time!" said his father.
"As hard as you like!" nodded Barnabas.