"Why the Postman?"

"He knew my father," said Jackanapes, "and he tells me about him, and
about his black mare. My father was a soldier, a brave soldier. He died
at Waterloo. When I grow up I want to be a soldier too." "So you shall,
my boy. So you shall."

"Thank you, grandfather. Aunty doesn't want me to be a soldier for fear
of being killed."

"Bless my life! Would she have you get into a feather-bed and stay
there? Why, you might be killed by a thunderbolt, if you were a
butter-merchant!"

"So I might. I shall tell her so. What a funny fellow you are, sir! I
say, do you think my father knew the Gipsy's secret? The Postman says he
used to whisper to his black mare."

"Your father was taught to ride as a child, by one of those horsemen of
the East who swoop and dart and wheel about a plain like swallows in
autumn. Grandson! Love me a little too. I can tell you more about your
father than the Postman can."

"I do love you," said Jackanapes. "Before you came I was frightened. I'd
no notion you were so nice."

"Love me always, boy, whatever I do or leave undone. And--God help
me--whatever you do or leave undone, I'll love you! There shall never be
a cloud between us for a day; no, sir, not for an hour. We're imperfect