Sometimes, however, he would succeed in landing
it, and then the chances were he would spill it over the deck or into the
passage. Now and again, he would get half-way up the ladder before the
accident occurred. Twice he nearly reached the top; and once he actually
did gain the roof. What happened there on that memorable occasion will
never be known. The boy himself, when picked up, could explain nothing.
It is supposed that he lost his head with the pride of the achievement,
and essayed feats that neither his previous training nor his natural
abilities justified him in attempting. However that may be, the fact
remains that the main body of the water came down the kitchen chimney;
and that the boy and the empty pail arrived together on deck before they
knew they had started.
When he could find nothing else to damage, he would go out of his way to
upset himself. He could not be sure of stepping from his own punt on to
the boat with safety. As often as not, he would catch his foot in the
chain or the punt-pole, and arrive on his chest.
Amenda used to condole with him. "Your mother ought to be ashamed of
herself," I heard her telling him one morning; "she could never have
taught you to walk. What you want is a go-cart."
He was a willing lad, but his stupidity was super-natural.
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