This was charming candour, and I laughed outright at it, and said:
"I never saw the boy that was afraid of anything whatever."
"I am not a boy," he answered, proudly.
"You have vanity enough for three, sir; but ere you perish, boy, there is one thing I must learn. Captain Grantley gives me to understand that you are the son of a baker. Is that so? For I think you are far too delightful to be anything so plebeian."
"Ah, no!" he sighed, "not even that. I never was the son of anybody."
"Dear me!" says I, "how singular! I must assume then that you came upon this earth like manna from the skies?"
"When I was a fortnight old," says he, "I was left upon the doorstep of a priory. I have never seen my parents, and I do not even know their names."
"But you are called Anthony Dare!" says I.
"The fathers called me Anthony after their patron saint; they called me Dare for daring to howl upon the doorstep of a priory."
"They have given you the most appropriate name they could possibly have found," says I, in admiration of his open, candid face and his courageous eyes, "for if I read your countenance aright, my lad, you dare do anything whatever."
"I think I might dare," says he, and tightened his thin lips.
