It was whilst he was going with an anxious countenance towards the village shop that Master Chuter met him with open arms. The little innkeeper was genuinely delighted to see him; and the news of his arrival having spread, several old friends (including “Willum” Smith) were waiting for him, about the yardway of the Heart of Oak. When the innkeeper discovered Jan’s errand, he insisted on packing up a prime cut of bacon, some new-laid eggs, and a bottle of “crusty” old port, such as the squires drank at election dinners, to take to the schoolmaster. Jan was far too glad of this seasonable addition to the feast to suggest doubts of its acceptance; indeed, he ventured on a hint about a possible lack of wine-glasses, which Master Chuter quickly took, and soon filled up his basket with ancient glasses on bloated legs, a clean table-cloth, and so forth.
“We needn’t say any thing about the glasses,” suggested Jan, as they drew near the cottage.
Master Chuter winked the little eye buried in his fat left cheek.
“I knows the schoolmaster, Jan. He be mortal proud; and I wouldn’t offend he, sartinly not, Jan. But Master Swift and me have seen a deal of each other since you left, and he’ve tasted this port before, when he were so bad, and he’ll not take it amiss from an old friend.”
Master Chuter was right. The schoolmaster only thanked him heartily, and pressed him to remain. But the little innkeeper, bustling round the table with professional solicitude, declined the invitation.
“I be obliged to ’ee all the same, Master Swift. But I hope I knows better manners than to intrude on you and Jan just now, let alone a gentleman on whom I shall have pleasure in waiting at the Heart of Oak. There be beds, sir, at your service and Jan’s, and well aired they be. And I’ll be proud to show you the sign, sir, painted by that boy when he were an infant, as I may say. But I knowed what was in un. Master Swift can bear me witness. ‘Mark my words,’ says I, ‘the boy Jan be ’most as good as a sign-painter yet.’ And I do think a will. But you knows best, sir.”
“I feel quite convinced that he will,” said the painter, gravely.
Whilst Master Chuter and the artist thus settled Jan’s career, he cooked the eggs and bacon; and when Master Swift had propelled himself to the table, and the others (including Rufus) had taken their seats, the innkeeper drew cork, dusted the bottle-mouth, and filled the fat-legged wine-glasses; then, throwing a parting glance over the arrangements of the table, he withdrew.