I was wound up and set to the right time, and a neat piece of black watered ribbon was attached to my neck, and then I waited patiently till the time came for my presentation to my new master.
The gamekeeper's cottage to which I was conducted in state that evening was not an imposing habitation.

It boasted of only three rooms, and just as many occupants.

George, the hero of the occasion, was the son of its humble owner and his wife, and, as will have been gathered, had turned out a prodigy.

From his earliest days he had displayed a remarkable aptitude for study.

Having once learned to read at the village school, he became insatiable after books, and devoured all that came within his reach.
Happily he fell into the hands of a wise and able guide, the clergyman of the parish, who, early recognising the cleverness of the boy, strove to turn his thirst for learning into profitable channels, lent him books, explained to him what he failed to understand, incited him to thoroughness, and generally constituted himself his kind and helpful adviser.
The consequence of this timely tuition had been that George had grown up, not a boisterous, over bearing prig, showing off his learning at every available chance, and making himself detestable, and everybody else miserable, by his conceited air, but a modest, quiet scholar, with plenty of hidden fire and ambition, and not presuming on his talents to scorn his humble origin, or be ashamed of his home and parents--on the contrary, connecting them with all his dearest hopes of success and advancement in the world.
They, good souls, were quite bewildered by the sudden blaze of their son's celebrity.