Brownsmith's Boy Part 22

"Hah! yes," he said; "nicely picked. That will do. You've got on too."

He went on, and I was following behind the cats, but he drew on one side to let me walk by him.

"Eat your apple," he said smiling, as he looked sidewise at me. "Only we always pick out the ugliest fruit and vegetables for home use, and send the best-looking to market."

"I'll remember that, sir," I said.

"Do, Grant, my lad. You will not lose by it, for I'll tell you something. The shabbiest-looking, awkwardly-grown apples, pears, and plums are generally the finest flavoured."

"Are they, sir?" I said.

"That they are, my boy. If you want a delicious pear don't pick out the great shapely ones, but those that are screwed all on one side and covered with rusty spots. The same with the plums and apples. They are almost always to be depended upon."

I had finished my mouthful of apple, and thrust the fruit in my jacket pocket.

"It is often the same with people in this life, my boy. Many of the plain-looking, shabby folks are very beautiful everywhere but outside.

There's a moral lesson for you. Save it up."

I said I would, and looked at him sidewise, hesitating, for I wanted to speak to him. I was wondering, too, whether he knew that I had been fighting with Shock, for my hands were very dirty and my knuckles were cut.

He did not speak any more, but stooped and took up one of the cats, to stroke it and let it get up on his shoulder, and we had nearly reached the house before I burst out desperately:

"If you please, Mr Brownsmith--"

Then I stopped short and stared at him helplessly, for the words seemed to stick in my throat.

"Well," he said, "what is it? Want to speak to me?"

"Yes, sir," I burst out; "I want to tell you that I--that I broke--"

"The ladder, eh?" he said smiling. "That's right, Grant; always speak out when you have had an accident of any kind. Nothing like being frank. It's honest and gives people confidence in you. Yes, I know all about the ladder. I was coming to see if you wanted it moved when I saw you overcome by it. Did Ike trim off that branch?"

"Yes, sir," I cried hastily. "I'm very sorry, sir. I did not know that--"

"It was so heavy, Grant. Leverage, my boy. A strong man can hardly hold a ladder if he gets it off the balance."

"Will it cost much to--"

"It was an old ladder, Grant, and I'm not sorry it is broken; for there was a bad crack there, I see, covered over by the paint. We might have had a nasty accident. It will do now for the low trees. Look here."

He led me into the shed where the ladders hung, and showed me the broken ladder, neatly sawn off at the top, and thinned down a little, and trimmed off with a spokeshave, while a pot of lead-coloured paint and a brush stood by with which the old gentleman had been going over the freshly-cut wood.

"My job," he said quietly. "Dry by to-morrow. You were quite right to tell me."

Then there was a pause.

"How many apples does that make you've had to-day?" he said, suddenly.

"Apples, sir? Oh! that was the first."

"Humph!" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, looking at me sharply. "And so you've been having a set-to with Shock, eh?"

"Yes, sir," I said in an aggrieved tone; "he--"

"Don't tell tales out of school, Grant," he said. "You've had your fight, and have come off better than I expected. Don't let's have any more of it, if you can help it. There, have a wash; make haste.

Dinner's waiting."

The relief I felt was something tremendous, and though five minutes or so before I had not wanted any dinner, I had no sooner had a good wash in the tin bowl with the clean cold water from the pump, and a good rub with the round towel behind the kitchen door, than I felt outrageously hungry; and it was quite a happy, flushed face, with a strapped-up wound on the forehead and a rather swollen and cut lip, that looked out at me from the little square shaving gla.s.s on the wall.

That morning I had been despondently thinking that I was making no end of enemies in my new home. That afternoon I began to find that things were not so very bad after all. Shock was sulky, and seemed to delight in showing me the roots of his hair in the nape of his neck, always turning his back; but he did not throw any more apples and he played no more pranks, but went on steadily picking.

I did the same, making no further advances to him, though, as I recalled how I hammered his body and head, and how he must have been p.r.i.c.ked by falling into the gooseberry bush, I felt sorry, and if he had offered to shake hands I should have forgotten how grubby his always were, and held out mine at once.

As the afternoon wore on we filled our baskets, and more had to be fetched. Then, later on, I wanted my ladder moved to another tree, and came down and called Ike, but he was not there, so I asked one of the other men, who came and did it for me, and then moved Shock's.

I was just mounting again when Ike came up, taking long strides and scowling angrily.

"S'pose you couldn't ha' waited a moment, could you?" he growled. "I didn't move the ladder just as you wanted, I suppose. You're precious partickler, you are. Now, look here, my fine gentleman, next time you want a ladder moved you may move it yourself."

"But I did call you, Ike," I said; "and you weren't there."

"I hadn't gone to get another two hundred o' plarnts, I suppose, and was comin' back as fast as I could, I s'pose. No, o' course not. I ought to ha' been clost to your elber, ready when you called. Never mind; next time you wants the ladder moved get some one else, for I sha'n't do it;" and he strode away.

Half an hour later he was back to see if I wanted it moved, and waited till I had finished gathering a few more apples, when, smiling quite good-humouredly, he s.h.i.+fted the ladder into a good place.

"There," he said, "you'll get a basketful up there.

"Shock, shall I s.h.i.+ft yours 'fore I go? That's your sort. Well, you two chaps have picked a lot."

I soon grew quite at home at Old Brownsmith's, and found him very kind.

Ike, too, in his rough way, quite took to me--at least if anything had to be done he was offended if I asked another of the men. I worked hard at the fruit-picking, and kept account when Ike laid straw or fern over the tops of the bushel and half-bushel baskets, and placed sticks across, lattice fas.h.i.+on, to keep the apples and pears in. Then of a night I used to transfer the writing on the slate to a book, and tell Old Brownsmith what I had put down, reading the items over and summing up the quant.i.ties and the amounts they fetched when the salesmen's accounts came from Covent Garden.

The men and women about the place--all very quiet, thoughtful people-- generally had a smile for me when I said good-morning, and I went on capitally, my old troubles being distant and the memories less painful day by day.

But somehow I never got on with Shock. I didn't want to make a companion of him, but I did not want him to be an enemy, and that he always seemed to be.

He never threw lumps of soil or apples or potatoes at me now; but he would often make-believe to be about to hurl something, and if he could not get away because of his work he always turned his back.

"He doesn't like me, Ike," I said to the big gardener one day.

"No, he don't, that's sartain," said Ike. "He's jealous of you, like, because the ganger makes so much of you."

"Mr Brownsmith would make as much of him if he would be smart and clean, and act like other boys," I said.

"Yes, but that's just what he won't do, won't Shock. You see, young 'un, he's a 'riginal--a reg'lar 'riginal, and you can't alter him.

Ain't tried to lick you again, has he?"

"Oh, no!" I said; "and he does not throw at me."