Brownsmith's Boy Part 49

His back was turned, and, taking advantage of this, the boy made a dash at me with his cane.

This was too much in my frame of mind, and I went at him, when the head gardener turned sharply and stood between us.

"That'll do," he cried sternly to us both.

"All right!" said the boy in a cool disdainful manner. "I'll watch for him, and if ever he comes in our garden again I'll let him know. I'll pay the beggar out. He is a beggar, isn't he, old Solomon?"

"Well, if I was asked which of you was the young gentleman, and which the ill-bred young beggar, I should be able to say pretty right,"

replied the gardener slowly.

"Oh! should you? Well, don't you bring him here again, or I'll let him know."

"You'd better let him know now, boy, for he's going to stop."

"What's he, the new boy?" said the lad, as if asking a very innocent question. "Where did you get him, Brownsmith? Is he out of the workhouse?"

Mr Solomon smiled at the boy's malice, but he saw me wince, and he drew me to his side in an instant. I had been thinking what a cold, hard man he was, and how different to his brother, who had been quite fatherly to me of late; but I found out now that he was, under his stern outward seeming, as good-hearted as Old Brownsmith himself.

He did not speak, but he laid one hand upon my shoulder and pressed it, and that hand seemed to say to me:

"Don't take any notice of the little-minded, contemptible, spoiled cub;"

and I drew a deep breath and began to feel that perhaps after all I should not want to go away.

"I thought so," cried the boy with a sn.i.g.g.e.r--"he's a pauper then. Ha, ha, ha! a pauper! I'll tell Courtenay. We'll call him pauper if he stops here."

"And that's just what he is going to do, Master Philip," said the head gardener, who seemed to have recovered his temper; "and that's what, thank goodness, you are not going to do. And the sooner you are off back to school to be licked into shape the better for you, that is if ever you expect to grow into a man. Come along, my lad, it's getting late."

"Yes, take him away," shouted the boy as I went off with Mr Solomon, my blood seeming to tingle in my veins as I heard a jeering burst of laughter behind me, and directly after the boy shouted:

"Here, hi! Courtenay. Here's a game. We've got a new pauper in the place."

Mr Solomon heard it, but he said nothing as we went on, while I felt very low-spirited again, and was thinking whether I had not better give up learning how to grow fruit and go back to Old Brownsmith, and Ike, and Shock, and Mrs Dodley, when my new guide said to me kindly:

"Don't you take any notice of them, my lad."

"Them?" I said in dismay.

"Yes, there's a pair of 'em--nice pair too. But they're often away at school, and Sir Francis is a thorough gentleman. They're not his boys, but her ladys.h.i.+p's, and she has spoiled 'em, I suppose. Let 'em grow wild, Grant. I say, my lad," he continued, looking at me with a droll twinkle in his eye, "they want us to train them, and prune them, and take off some of their straggling growths, eh? I think we could make a difference in them, don't you?"

I smiled and nodded.

"Only schoolboys. Say anything, but it won't hurt us. Here we are.

Come in."

He led the way into a plainly furnished room, where everything seemed to have been scoured till it glistened or turned white; and standing by a table, over which the supper cloth had been spread, was a tall, quiet-looking, elderly woman, with her greyish hair very smoothly stroked down on either side of her rather severe face.

"This is young Grant," said Mr Solomon.

The woman nodded, and looked me all over, and it seemed as if she took more notice of my s.h.i.+rt and collar than she did of me.

"Sit down, Grant, you must be hungry," said Mr Solomon; and as soon as we were seated the woman, who, I supposed, was Mrs Solomon, began to cut us both some cold bacon and some bread.

"Master Philip been at you long?" said Mr Solomon, with his mouth full.

"No, sir," I said; "it all happened in a moment or two."

"I'm glad you didn't hit him," he said. "Eat away, my lad."

The woman kept on cutting bread, but she was evidently listening intently.

"I'm glad now, sir," I said; "but he hurt me so, and I was in such a pa.s.sion that I didn't think. I didn't know who he was."

"Of course not. Go on with your supper."

"I hope, sir, you don't think I was going to eat that peach," I said, for the thought of the affair made my supper seem to choke me.

"If I thought you were the sort of boy who couldn't be trusted, my lad, you wouldn't be here," said Mr Solomon quietly. "Bit more fat, mother."

I brightened up, and he saw it.

"Why, of course not, my lad. Didn't I trust you, and send you in among my choice grapes, and ripe figs, and things. There, say no more about it. Gardeners don't grow fruit to satisfy their mouths, but their eyes, and their minds, my lad. Eat away. Don't let a squabble with a schoolboy who hasn't learned manners spoil your supper. We've never had any children; but if we had, Grant, I don't think they would be like that."

"They make me miserable when they are at home," said Mrs Solomon, speaking almost for the first time.

"Don't see why they should," said Mr Solomon, with his voice sounding as if his tongue were a little mixed up with his supper. "Why, they don't come here."

"They might be made such different boys if properly trained."

"They'll come right by and by, but for the present, Grant, you steer clear of them. They're just like a couple of young slugs, or so much blight in the garden now."

The supper was ended, and Mrs Solomon, in a very quiet, quick way, cleared the cloth, and after she had done, placed a Bible on the table, out of which Mr Solomon read a short chapter, and then shook hands with me and sent me away happy.

"Good night, my lad!" he said. "It's all strange to you now, and we're not noisy jolly sort of people, but you're welcome here, and we shall get on."

"Yes," said Mrs Solomon in a very cold stern way that did not seem at all inviting or kind. "Come along and I'll show you your bed-room."

I followed her upstairs and into a little room with a sloping ceiling and a window looking out upon the garden; and at the sight of the neat little place, smelling of lavender, and with some flowers in a jug upon the drawers, the depression which kept haunting me was driven away.

Everything looked attractive--the clean white bed and its dainty hangings, the blue ewer and basin on the washstand, the picture or two on the wall, and the strips of light-coloured carpet on the white floor, all made the place cheerful and did something to recompense me for the trouble of having to leave what seemed to be my regular home, and come from one who had of late been most fatherly and kind, to people who were not likely to care for me at all.

"I think there's everything you want," said Mrs Solomon, looking at me curiously. "Soap and towel, and of course you've got your hair-brush and things in your box there."

She pointed at the corded box which stood in front of the table.

"If there's anything you want you can ask. I hope you'll be very clean."

"I'll try to be, ma'am," I said, feeling quite uncomfortable, she looked at me so coldly.