The Amateur Gentleman

For a moment Barnabas stood wide-eyed, panting, then ran towards him

with hands outstretched, but in that moment the door was flung open,

and Natty Bell stood between them, one hand upon the laboring breast

of Barnabas, the other stretched down to the fallen ex-champion.

"Man Jack," he exclaimed, in his strangely melodious voice.

"Oh, John!--John Barty, you as ever was the king o' the milling coves,

here's my hand, shake it. Lord, John, what a master o' the Game

we've made of our lad. He's stronger than you and quicker than ever

I was. Man Jack, 'twas as sweet, as neat, as pretty a knockdown as

ever we gave in our best days, John. Man Jack, 'tis proud you should

be to lie there and know as you have a son as can stop even your

rush wi' his left an' down you wi' his right as neat and proper, John,

as clean an' delicate as ever man saw. Man Jack, God bless him, and

here's my hand, John."

So, sitting there upon the floor, John Barty solemnly shook the hand

Natty Bell held out to him, which done, he turned and looked at his

son as though he had never seen him before.

"Why, Barnabas!" said he; then, for all his weight, sprang nimbly to

his feet and coming to the mantel took thence his pipe and began to

fill it, staring at Barnabas the while.

"Father," said Barnabas, advancing with hand outstretched, though

rather diffidently--"Father!"

John Barty pursed up his lips into a soundless whistle and went on

filling his pipe.

"Father," said Barnabas again, "I did it--as gently--as I could."

The pipe shivered to fragments on the hearth, and Barnabas felt his

fingers caught in his father's mighty grip.

"Why, Barnabas, lad, I be all mazed like; there aren't many men as

have knocked me off my pins, an' I aren't used to it, Barnabas, lad,

but 't was a clean blow, as Natty Bell says, and why--I be proud of

thee, Barnabas, an'--there y' are."

"Spoke like true fighting men!" said Natty Bell, standing with a

hand on the shoulder of each, "and, John, we shall see this lad,

this Barnabas of ours, Champion of England yet." John frowned and

shook his head.

"No," said he, "Barnabas'll never be Champion, Natty Bell--there

aren't a fighting man in the Ring to-day as could stand up to him,

but he'll never be Champion, an' you can lay to that, Natty Bell.

And if you ask me why," said he, turning to select another pipe from

the sheaf in the mantel-shelf, "I should tell you because he prefers

to go to London an' try to turn himself into a gentleman."

"London," exclaimed Natty Bell, "a gentleman--our Barnabas--what?"