Can he ... can he
talk?" It seemed so absurd a question to ask, yet it was essentially a
natural question in the circumstances.

"He can, but he won't."

This was startling enough, and I pressed my enquiry.

"How do you know? Are you sure he can?"

"Ah!" Only that irritating, monosyllabic assent.

"Look here, Stott," I said, "don't you want to talk about the child?"

He shrugged his shoulders and threw more wood into the pond with a
strained attentiveness as though he were peculiarly anxious to hit some
particular wafer of the vivid, floating weed. For a full five minutes we
maintained silence. I was trying to subdue my impatience and my temper.
I knew Stott well enough to know that if I displayed signs of either, I
should get no information from him. My self-control was rewarded at
last.

"I've 'eard 'im speak," he said, "speak proper, too, not like a baby."

He paused, and I grunted to show that I was listening, but as he
volunteered no further remark, I said: "What did you hear him say?"

"I dunno," replied Stott, "somethin' about learnin' and talkin'. I
didn't get the rights of it, but the missus near fainted--_she_ thinks
'e's Gawd A'mighty or suthing."

"But why don't you make him speak?" I asked deliberately.

"Make 'im!" said Stott, with a curl of his lip, "_make_ 'im! You try it
on!"

I knew I was acting a part, but I wanted to provoke more information.
"Well! Why not?" I said.

"'Cos 'e'd look at you--that's why not," replied Stott, "and you can't
no more face 'im than a dog can face a man. I shan't stand it much
longer."

"Curious," I said, "very curious."

"Oh! he's a blarsted freak, that's what 'e is," said Stott, getting to
his feet and beginning to pace moodily up and down.

I did not interrupt him. I was thinking of this man who had drawn huge
crowds from every part of England, who had been a national hero, and
who, now, was unable to face his own child. Presently Stott broke out
again.

"To think of all the trouble I took when 'e was comin'," he said,
stopping in front of me. "There was nothin' the missus fancied as I
wouldn't get. We was livin' in Stoke then." He made a movement of his
head in the direction of Ailesworth. "Not as she was difficult," he went
on thoughtfully. "She used to say 'I mussent get 'abits, George.' Caught
that from me; I was always on about that--then. You know, thinkin' of
learnin' 'im bowlin'. Things was different then; afore _'e_ came." He
paused again,