The boy struggled to his feet, and came slowly to us with the rope, which the man scanned eagerly.

"I don't want to make no mistakes," he growled. "Let's see it. If it's your rope, you shall have it, but—now then! d'yer hear?"

This was to the boy, who took advantage of my helpless position to give me a couple of savage kicks in the leg as he stood there; but as he had no shoes on, the kicks did not do much harm.

"Why, o' course it is our rope," growled the fellow. "Gahn with you, what d'yer mean by coming here with a tale like that?"

He gave me a shake, and the woman interfered.

"Let him go, Ned," she said, "or ther'll be a row."

The man took one hand from my shoulder, and doubled his great fist, which he held close to the woman's face in a menacing way. Then turning sharply he made believe to strike me with all his might right in the mouth, when, as I flinched, he growled out with a savage grin:

"Ah! yer know'd yer deserved it. Now I dunno whether I'm going to keep yer here, or whether I shall let yer go; but whichever I does, don't you go a sweering that this here's your rope, a cause it's mine. D'yer hear, mine?"

The door was kicked open at that moment, and a couple of the rough-looking fellows I had seen at the entrance to the court stood half inside, leaning against the door-posts and looking stolidly on.

I was about to appeal to them for help, but my instinct told me that such an application would be in vain, while their first words told me how right I was.

"Give it him, Ned. What's he a-doin' here?" said one.

"See if he's got any tin," said the other.

"Ah! make him pay up," said the first.

"'Ow much have yer got, eh?" said my captor, giving me a shake, which was the signal for the boy to kick at me again with all his might.

"Gahn, will yer," cried the man, "or I'll wrap that rope's end round yer."

The woman just then made a step forward and struck at the boy, who dodged the blow, and retreated to the far end of the room, the woman shrinking away too as the man growled:

"Let him alone; will yer?"

I seized the opportunity to wrench myself partly away, and to catch hold of the rope, which the man had now beneath one of his feet.

"Ah, would yer!" he shouted, tearing the rope away from me. "Comes up here, mates, bold as brass, and says it's his'n."

I felt more enraged and mortified now than alarmed, and I cried out:

"It is our rope, and that boy stole it; and I'll tell the police."

"Oh! yer will, will yer?" cried my captor. "We'll see about that. Here, what money have yer got?"

"I've only enough for my breakfast," I cried defiantly. "Give me my rope and let me go."

"Oh yes, I'll let yer go," he cried, as I wrestled to get away, fighting with all my might, and striving to reach the rope at the same moment.

"Look out, Ned," said one of the men at the door, grinning. "He'll be too much for yer;" and the other uttered a hoarse laugh.

"Ah, that he will!" cried the big fellow, letting me get hold of the rope, and, tightening his grasp upon my collar, he kicked my legs from under me, so that I fell heavily half across the coil, while he went down on one knee and held me panting and quivering there, perfectly helpless.

The boy made another dart forward, and I saw the woman catch at him by the head, but his shortly-cropped hair glided through her hands, and he would have reached me had not the man kicked out at him and made him stop suddenly and watch for another chance.

"Who's got a knife?" growled the man now savagely as he turned towards the two fellows at the door; "I'll soon show him what it is to come here a-wanting to steal our cart-ropes. Chuck that there knife here."

He rose as he spoke, and planted one foot upon my chest. Then catching the pocket-knife thrown to him by one of the men at the door, he opened it with a great deal of show and menace, bending down to stare savagely in my eyes as he whetted the blade upon the boot resting on my chest.

Of course I was a good deal alarmed, but I knew all the while that this was all show and that the great ruffian was trying to frighten me. I was in a desperately bad state, in an evil place, but it was broad daylight, and people had seen me come in, so that I did not for a moment think he would dare to kill me. All the same, though, I could not help feeling a curious nervous kind of tremor run through my frame as he flourished the knife about and glared at me as if pondering as to what he should do next.

"I wish Ike were here," I thought; and as I did so I could not help thinking how big and strong he was, and how little he would make of seizing this great cowardly ruffian by the throat and making him let me go.

"Now, then," he cried, "out wi' that there money." For answer, I foolishly showed him where it was by clapping my hand upon my pocket, when, with a grin of satisfaction, he tore my hand away, thrust in his great fingers, and dragged it out, spat on the various coins, and thrust them in his own pocket.

"What d'yer say?" he cried, bending down again towards me.

"The police shall make you give that up," I panted.

"Says we're to spend this here in beer, mates," he said, grinning, while the woman stood with her eyes half shut and her arms folded, looking on.

The two men at the door laughed.

"Now, then," said the big fellow, "since he's come out genteel-like with his money, I don't think I'll give him the knife this time. Get up with yer, and be off while your shoes are good."

He took his great boot off my chest, and I started up.

"I wouldn't give much for yer," he growled, "if yer showed yer face here agen."

He accompanied this with such a menacing look that I involuntarily shrank away, but recovering myself directly I seized the coil of rope and made for the door.

"What!" roared the great ruffian, snatching the rope, and, as I held on to it, dragging me back. "Trying to steal, are you?"

"It's mine—it's ours," I cried passionately.

"Oh! I'll soon let yer know about that," he cried. "Look here, mates; this is our rope, ain't it?"

"Yes," said one of them: "I'll swear to it."

"It's mine," I cried, tugging at it angrily.

"Let go, will yer—d'yer hear; let go."

He tugged and snatched at it savagely, and just then the boy leaped upon me, butting at me, and striking with all his might, infuriating me so by his cowardly attack, that, holding on to the rope with one hand, I swung round my doubled fist with the other and struck him with all my might.

It must have been a heavy blow right in the face, for he staggered back, caught against a chair, and then fell with a crash, howling dismally.

"Look at that, now," cried the big ruffian. "Now he shall have it."

"Serves him right!" said the woman passionately.

"Let the boy go, Ned, or you'll get into trouble."

"I'll get into trouble for something then," cried the fellow savagely, as he hurt me terribly by jerking the rope out of my hand and catching me by the collar, when I saw the two men at the open door look round, and I heard a familiar growl on the stairs that made my heart leap with joy.

"Ike!—Here!—Ike!" I shouted with all my might.

"Hold yer row," hissed the great ruffian in a hoarse whisper, and clapping one hand behind my head he placed the other upon my mouth.

He dragged me round, half-choked and helpless, and then he said something over his shoulder to the woman, while I fought and struggled, and tried hard to shout again to Ike, whose heavy feet I could hear in the midst of a good deal of altercation on the stairs.

As I struggled to get free I saw that the window was opened and the rope thrown out. Then the window was quickly shut, and I was dragged towards the door.

"Here, you be off outer this," whispered the great ruffian, with his lips close to my ear. "You cut; and don't you—"

He stopped short, holding me tightly, and seemed to hesitate, his eyes glaring round as if in search of some place where he could hide me, not knowing what to do for the best.

"Shut the door, mates," he said quickly; and the two men dragged the door to after them as they stood outside.

"Just you make half a sound, and—"

He put his lips close to my ear as he said this, and closed the great clasp-knife with a sharp click which made me start; while his eyes seemed to fascinate me as he bent down and glared at me.

It was only for a moment, though, and then I managed to slip my face aside and shouted aloud:

"Ike!"

There was a rush and a scuffle outside, and the woman said in an ill-used tone:

"I told yer how it would be."

"You hold—"

He did not finish, for just then one of the men outside growled—plainly heard through the thin door:

"Now, then, where are yer shovin' to?"

"In here," roared a voice that sent a thrill of joy through me.

"Now, then, what d'yer want?" cried the big fellow, thrusting me behind him as Ike kicked open the door and strode into the room.

"What do I want?" he roared. "I want him and our cart-rope. Now, then, where is it?"

There was a fierce muttering among the men, and they drew together while the boy and the woman cowered into one corner of the attic.

"Oh! you're not going to scare me," cried Ike fiercely. "There's the police just at hand if I wants help. Now then, where's that rope?"

"What rope?" growled the ruffian. "I don't know about no ropes."

"They threw it out of the window, Ike," I cried.

"That's a lie," snarled the man. "There ain't never been no ropes here."

"There has been one," I cried, feeling bold now; "but they threw it out of the window."

"Well, of all—" began one of the men, who had crossed the room with his companion to the big ruffian's side.

"You go on down, my lad," whispered Ike in a low deep voice. "Go on, now."

"But are you coming?" I whispered back.

"You may depend on that," he said, as if to himself, "if they'll let me. Go on."

I moved towards the open door, when one of the men made a dash to stop me; but Ike threw put one leg, and he fell sprawling. At the same moment my enemy made a rush at Ike, who stepped back, and then I saw his great fist fly out straight. There was a dull, heavy sound, and the big ruffian stopped short, reeled, and then dropped down upon his hands and knees.

"Quick, boy, quick! You go first," whispered Ike, as I stopped as if paralysed; "I'll foller."

His words roused me, and I ran out of the room.



CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

WHAT BECAME OF THE ROPE.

I nearly fell headlong down as I reached the stairs, for my foot went through a hole in the boards, but I recovered myself and began to run down as fast as I dared, on account of the rickety state of the steps, while Ike came clumping down after me, and we could hear the big ruffian's voice saying something loudly as we hurried from flight to flight.

There were knots of women on the different landings and at the bottom of the stairs, and they were all talking excitedly; but only to cease and look curiously at us as we went by.

There was quite a crowd, too, of men, women, and children in the court below as we left the doorway; but Ike's bold manner and the decided way in which he strode out with me, looking sharply from one to the other, put a stop to all opposition, even if it had been intended.

There were plenty of scowling, menacing looks, and there was a little hooting from the men, but they gave way, and in another minute we were out of the court and in the dirty street, with a troop of children following us and the people on either side looking on.

"But, Ike," I said in a despairing tone, "we haven't got the rope after all."

"No," he said; "but I've got you out o' that place safe, and I haven't got much hurt myself, and that's saying a deal. Talk about savages and wild beasts abroad! why, they're nothing."

"I didn't see any policemen, Ike," I said, as I thought of their power.

"More didn't I," he replied with a grim smile. "They don't care much about going down these sort o' places; no more don't I. We're well out of that job, my lad. You didn't ought to have gone."

"But that boy was running off with the best cart rope, Ike," I said despondently, "and I was trying to get it back, and now it's gone. What will Mr Brownsmith say?"

"Old Brownsmith won't say never a word," said Ike, as we trudged on along a more respectable street.

"Oh, but he will," I cried. "He is so particular about the ropes."

"So he be, my lad. Here, let's brush you down; you're a bit dirty."

"But he will," I said, as I submitted to the operation.

"Not he," said Ike. "Them police is in the right of it. I'm all of a shiver, now that bit of a burst's over;" and he wiped his brow.

"You are, Ike?" I said wonderingly.

"To be sure I am, my lad. I was all right there, and ready to fight; but now it's over and we're well out of it, I feel just as I did when the cart tipped up and all the baskets come down atop of you."

"I am glad you feel like that," I said.

"Why?" he cried sharply.

"Because it makes me feel that I was not such a terrible coward after all."

"But you were," he said, giving me a curious look. "Oh, yes: about as big a coward as ever I see."

I did not understand why I was so very great a coward, but he did not explain, and I trudged on by him.

"I say, what would you have done if I hadn't come?"

"I don't know," I said. "I suppose they would have let me go at last. They got all my money."

"They did?"

"Yes," I said dolefully; "and then there's the rope. What will Mr Brownsmith say?"

"Nothin' at all," said Ike.

"But he will," I cried again.

"No he won't, because we'll buy a new one 'fore we goes back."

"I thought of that," I said, "but I've no money now."

"Oh, all right! I have," he said. "We may think ourselves well out of a bad mess, my lad; and I don't know as we oughtn't to go to the police, but we haven't no time for that. There'll be another load o' strawb'ys ready by the time we get back, and I shall have to come up again to-night. Strawb'ys sold well to-day. No: we've no time for the police."

"They deserve to be taken up," I said.

"Ay, they do, my boy; but folks don't get all they deserve."

"Or I should be punished for letting that boy steal the rope."

"Hang the rope!" he said crustily. "I mean, hang the boy or his father, and that's what some of 'em'll come to," he cried grimly, "if they don't mind. They're a bad lot down that court. Lor' a mussy me! I'd sooner live in one of our sheds on some straw, with a sack for a pillow, than be shut up along o' these folk in them courts."

"But they wouldn't have hurt me, Ike?" I said.

"I dunno, my lad. P'r'aps they would, p'r'aps they wouldn't. They might have kept you and made a bad un of yer. Frightened you into it like."

I shook my head.

"Ah! you don't know, my lad. How much did they get?"

"Two shillings and ninepence halfpenny," I said dolefully.

"And a nearly new rope. Ah, it's a bad morning's work for your first journey."

"It is, Ike," I said; "but I didn't know any better. How did you know where I was?"

"How did I know? Why, Shock saw you and followed you, and come back and fetched me, when I was staring at the cart and wondering what had gone of you two."

"Where is he now?" I asked.

"What, Shock? Oh, I don't know. He's a queer chap. P'r'aps they've got him instead of you."

I stopped short and looked at him, but saw directly that he was only joking, and went on again:

"You don't think that," I said quickly; "for if you did you would not have come away. Do you think he has gone back to the cart?"

"Oh, there's no knowing," he replied. "P'r'aps when we get back there won't be any cart; some one will have run away with it. They're rum uns here in London."

"Why, you haven't left the cart alone, Ike," I cried.

"That's a good one, that is," he exclaimed. "You haven't left the cart alone! Why, you and Shock did."

"Yes," I said; "but—"

"There, come and let's see," he said gruffly. "We should look well, we two, going back home without a cart, and old Bonyparty took away and cut up for goodness knows what and his skin made into leather. Come along."

We walked quickly, for it seemed as if this was going to be a day all misfortunes; but as we reached the market again I found that Ike had not left the cart untended, for a man was there by the horse, and the big whip curved over in safety from where it was stuck.

"Seen anything of our other boy?" said Ike as we reached the cart.

"No," was the reply.

"Hadn't we better go back and look for him?" I said anxiously.

"Well, I don't know," said Ike, rubbing one ear; "he ain't so much consequence as you."

"I've been to Paris and I've been to Do-ho-ver."

"Why, there he is," I cried; and, climbing up the wheel, there lay Shock on his back right on the top of the baskets, and as soon as he saw my face he grinned and then turned his back.

"He's all right," I said as I descended; and just then there was a creaking noise among the baskets, and Shock's head appeared over the edge.

"Here y'are," he cried. "That there tumbled out o' window, and I ketched it and brought it here."

As he spoke he threw down the coil of nearly new rope, and I felt so delighted that I could have gone up to him and shaken hands.

"Well, that's a good un, that is," said Ike with a chuckle. "I am 'bout fine and glad o' that."

He took the rope and tied it up to the ladder again, and then turned to me.

"Come along and get some breakfast, my lad," he said. "I dessay you're fine and hungry."

"But how about Shock?"

"Oh, we'll send him out some. Here, you, Shock, look after the cart and horse. Don't you leave 'em," Ike added to the man; and then we made our way to a coffee-house, where Ike's first act, to my great satisfaction, was to procure a great mug of coffee and a couple of rolls, which he opened as if they had been oysters, dabbed a lump of butter in each, and then put under his arm.

"He don't deserve 'em," he growled, "for coming; but he did show me where you was."

"And he saved the rope," I said.

Ike nodded.

"You sit down till I come back, my lad," he said; and then he went off, to return in a few minutes to face me at a table where we were regaled with steaming coffee and grilled haddocks.

"This is the best part of the coming to market, my lad," he said, "only it's a mistake."

"What is?" I asked.

"Haddocks, my lad. They're a trickier kind o' meat than bloaters. I ordered this here for us 'cause it seemed more respectable like, as I'd got company, than herrin'; but it's a mistake."

"But this is very nice," I said, beginning very hungrily upon the hot roll and fish, but with a qualm in my mind as to how it was to be paid for.

"Ye-es," said Ike, after saying "soup" very loudly as he took a long sip of his coffee; "tidyish, my lad, tidyish, but you see one gets eddicated to a herring, and knows exactly where every bone will be. These things seems as if the bones is all nowhere and yet they're everywhere all the time, and so sure as you feel safe and take a bite you find a sharp pynte, just like a trap laid o' purpose to ketch yer."

"Well, there are a good many little bones, certainly," I said.

"Good many! Thick as slugs after a shower. There's one again, sharp as a needle. Wish I'd a red herrin', that I do."

"I say, Ike," I said suddenly, as I was in the middle of my breakfast, "I wish I could make haste and grow into a man."

"Do you, now?" he said with a derisive laugh. "Ah! I shouldn't wonder. If you'd been a man I s'pose you'd have pitched all those rough uns out o' window, eh?"

"I should have liked to be able to take care of myself," I said.

"Without old Ike, eh, my lad?"

"I don't mean that," I said; "only I should like to be a man."

"Instead o' being very glad you're a boy with everything fresh and bright about you. Red cheeks and clean skin and all your teeth, and all the time to come before you, instead of having to look back and think you're like an old spade—most wore out."

"Oh, but you're so strong, Ike! I should like to be a man."

"Like to be a boy, my lad, and thank God you are one," said old Ike, speaking as I had never heard him speak before. "It's natur', I s'pose. All boys wishes they was men, and when they're men they look back on that happiest time of their lives when they was boys and wishes it could come over again."

"Do they, Ike?" I said.

"I never knew a man who didn't," said Ike, making the cups dance on the table by giving it a thump with his fist. "Why, Master Grant, I was kicked about and hit when I was a boy more'n ever a boy was before, but all that time seems bright and sunshiny to me."

"But do you think Shock's happy?" I said; "he's a boy, and has no one to care about him."

"Happy! I should just think he is. All boys has troubles that they feels bad at the time, but take 'em altogether they're as happy as can be. Shock's happy enough his way or he wouldn't have been singing all night atop of the load. There, you're a boy, and just you be thankful that you are, my lad; being a boy's about as good a thing as there is."

We had nearly finished our breakfast when Ike turned on me sharply.

"Why, you don't look as if you was glad to be a boy," he said.

"I was thinking about what Mr Brownsmith will say when he knows I've been in such trouble," I replied.

"Ah, he won't like it! But I suppose you ain't going to tell him?"

"Yes," I said, "I shall tell him."

Ike remained silent for a few minutes, and sat slowly filling his pipe.

At last, as we rose to go, after Ike had paid the waitress, he said to me slowly:

"Sometimes doing right ain't pleasant and doing wrong is. It's quite right to go and tell Old Brownsmith and get blowed up, and it would be quite wrong not to tell him, but much the nystest. Howsoever, you tell him as soon as we get back. He can't kill yer for that, and I don't s'pose he'll knock yer down with the kitchen poker and then kick you out. You've got to risk it."

I did tell Old Brownsmith all my trouble when we reached home, and he listened attentively and nodding his head sometimes. Then he said softly, "Ah!" and that was all.

But I heard him scold Master Shock tremendously for going off from his work without leave.

Shock had been looking on from a distance while I was telling Old Brownsmith, and this put it into his head, I suppose, that I had been speaking against him, for during the next month he turned his back whenever he met me, and every now and then, if I looked up suddenly, it was to see him shaking his fist at me, while his hair seemed to stand up more fiercely than ever out of his crownless straw hat like young rhubarb thrusting up the lid from the forcing-pot put on to draw the stalks.



CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

THE GARDENER SURGEON.

"People sneer at gardening and gardeners, Grant," said the old gentleman to me one day. "Perhaps you may take to some other occupation when you grow older; but don't you never be ashamed of having learned to be a gardener."

"I'm sure I never shall," I said.

"I hope you will not, my boy, for there's something in gardening and watching the growth of trees and plants that's good for a lad's nature; and if I was a schoolmaster I'd let every boy have a garden, and make him keep it neat. It would be as good a lesson as any he could teach."

"I like gardening more and more, sir," I said.

"That's right, my boy. I hope you do, but you've a deal to learn yet. Gardening's like learning to play the fiddle; there's always something more to get hold of than you know. I wish I had some more glass."

"I wish you had, sir," I said.

"Why, boy?—why?" he cried sharply.

"Because you seem as if you'd like it, sir," I said, feeling rather abashed by his sharp manner.

"Yes, but it was so that I should be able to teach you, sir. But wait a bit, I'll talk to my brother one of these days."

Time glided on, and as I grew bigger and stronger I used now and then to go up with Ike to the market. He would have liked me to go every time, but Mr Brownsmith shook his head, and would only hear of it in times of emergency.

"Not a good task for you, Grant," he used to say. "I want you at home."

We were down the garden one morning after a very stormy night, when the wind had been so high that a great many of the fruit-trees had had their branches broken off, and we were busy with ladder, saw, and knife, repairing damages.

I was up the ladder in a fine young apple-tree, whose branch had been broken and was hanging by a few fibres, and as soon as I had fixed myself pretty safely I began to cut, while when I glanced down to see if Old Brownsmith was taking any notice I saw that he was smiling.

"Won't do—won't do, Grant," he said. "Cutting off a branch of a tree that has been broken is like practising amputation on a man. Cut lower, boy."

"But I wanted to save all that great piece with those little boughs," I said.

"But you can't, my lad. Now just look down the side there below where you are cutting, and what can you see?"

"Only a little crack that will grow up."

"Only a little crack that won't grow up, Grant, but which will admit the rain, and the wet will decay the tree; and that bough, at the end of two or three years, instead of being sound and covered with young shoots, will be dying away. A surgeon, when he performs an amputation, cuts right below the splintered part of the bone. Cut three feet lower down, my lad, and then pare all off nice and smooth, just as I showed you over the pruning.

"That's the way," he said, as he watched me. "That's a neat smooth wound in the tree that will dry up easily after every shower, and nature will send out some of her healing gum or sap, and it will turn hard, and the bark, just as I showed you before, will come up in a new ring, and swell and swell till it covers the wood, and by and by you will hardly see where the cut was made."

I finished my task, and was going to shoulder the ladder and get on to the next tree, when the old gentleman said in his quaint dry way:

"You know what the first workman was, Grant?"

"Yes," I said, "a gardener."

"Good!" he said. "And do you know who was the first doctor and surgeon?"

"No," I said.

"A gardener, my boy, just as the men were who first began to improve the way in which men lived, and gave them fruit and corn and vegetables to eat, as well as the wild creatures they killed by hunting."

"Oh, yes!" I said, "I see all that, but I don't see how the first doctor and surgeon could have been a gardener."

"Don't you?" he said, laughing silently. "I do. Who but a gardener would find out the value of the different herbs and juices, and what they would do. You may call him a botanist, my lad, but he was a gardener. He would find out that some vegetables were good for the blood at times, and from that observation grew the whole doctrine of medicine. That's my theory, my boy. Now cut off that pear-tree branch."

I set the ladder right, and proceeded to cut and trim the injury, thinking all the while what a pity it was that the trees should have been so knocked about by the storm.

"Do you know who were the best gardeners in England in the olden times, Grant?" said the old gentleman as he stood below whetting my knife.

"No, sir,—yes, I think I do," I hastened to add—"the monks."

"Exactly. We have them to thank for introducing and improving no end of plants and fruit-trees. They were very great gardeners—famous gardeners and cultivators of herbs and strange flowers, and it was thus that they, many of them, became the doctors or teachers of their district, and I've got an idea in my head that it was on just such a morning as this that some old monk—no, he must have been a young monk, and a very bold and clever one—here, take your knife, it's as sharp as a razor now."

I stooped down and took the knife, and hanging my saw from one of the rounds of the ladder began to cut, and the old gentleman went on:

"It must have been after such a morning as this, boy, that some monk made the first bold start at surgery."

I looked down at him, and he went on:

"You may depend upon it that during the storm some poor fellow had been caught out in the forest by a falling limb of a tree, one of the boughs of which pinned him to the ground and smashed his leg."

"An oak-tree," I said, quite enjoying the fact that he was inventing a story.

"No, boy, an elm. Oak branches when they break are so full of tough fibre that they hang on by the stump. It is your elm that is the treacherous tree, and snaps short off, and comes down like thunder."

"An elm-tree, then," I said, paring away.

"Yes, a huge branch of an elm, and there the poor fellow lay till some one heard his shouts, and came to his help."

"Where he would be lying in horrible agony," I said, trimming away at the bough.

"Wrong again, Grant. Nature is kinder than that. With such an injury the poor fellow's limb would be numbed by the terrible shock, and possibly he felt but little pain. I knew an officer whose foot was taken off in a battle in India. A cannon-ball struck him just above the ankle, and he felt a terrible blow, but it did not hurt him afterwards for the time; and all he thought of was that his horse was killed, till he began to struggle away from the fallen beast, when he found that his own leg was gone."

"How horrible!" I said.

"All war is horrible, my boy," he said gravely. "Well, to go on with my story. I believe that they came and hoisted out the poor fellow under the tree, and carried him up to the old priory to have his broken leg cured by one of the monks, who would be out in his garden just the same as we are, Grant, cutting off and paring the broken boughs of his apple and pear trees. Then they laid him in one of the cells, and his leg was bound up and dressed with healing herbs, and the poor fellow was left to get well."

"And did he?" I said.

"Then the gardener monk went out into the garden again and continued to trim off the broken branches, sawing these and cutting those, and thinking all the while about his patient in the cell.

"Then the next day came, and the poor fellow's relatives ran up to see him, and he was in very great agony, and they called upon the monks to help him, and they dressed the terrible injury again, and the poor fellow was very feverish and bad in spite of all that was done. But at last he dropped off into a weary sleep, and the poor people went away thinking what a great thing it was to have so much knowledge of healing, while, as soon as they had gone the monk shook his head.

"Next day came, and the relatives and friends were delighted, for the pain was nearly all gone, and the injured man lay very still.

"'He'll soon get well now,' they said; and they went away full of hope and quite satisfied; but the monk, after he had given the patient some refreshing drink, went out into his garden among his trees, and then after walking about in the sunny walk under the old stone wall, he stopped by the mossy seat by the sun-dial, and stood looking down at the gnomon, whose shadow marked the hours, and sighed deeply as he thought how many times the shadow would point to noon before his poor patient was dead."

"Why, I thought he was getting better," I said.

"Carry your ladder to the next tree, Grant," said the old gentleman, "and you shall work while I prattle."

I obeyed him, and this time I had a great apple-tree bough to operate upon with the thin saw. I began using the saw very gently, and listening, for I seemed to see that monk in his long grey garment, and rope round his waist, looking down at the sun-dial, when Old Brownsmith went on slowly:

"He knew it could not be long first, for the man's leg was crushed and the bone splintered so terribly that it would never heal up, and that the calm sense of comfort was a bad sign, for the limb was mortifying, and unless that mortification was stopped the man must die."

"Poor fellow!" I ejaculated, for the old man told the story with such earnestness that it seemed to be real.

"Yes, poor fellow! That is what the monk said as he thought of all the herbs and decoctions he had made, and that not one of them would stop the terrible change that was going on. He felt how helpless he was, and at last, Grant, he sat down on the mossy old stone bench, and covering his face with his hands, cried like a child."

"But he was a man," I said.

"Yes, my lad; but there are times when men are so prostrated by misery and despair that they cry like women—not often—perhaps only once or twice in a man's life. My monk cried bitterly, and then he jumped up, feeling ashamed of himself, and began walking up and down. Then he went and stood by the great fish stew, where the big carp and tench were growing fatter as they fed by night and basked in the sunshine among the water weeds by day; but no thought came to him as to how he could save the poor fellow lying in the cell."

Old Brownsmith stopped to blow his nose on a brown-and-orange silk handkerchief, and stroke two or three cats, while I sawed away very slowly, waiting for what was to come.

"Then he went round by where one apple-tree, like that, had lost a bough, and whose stump he had carefully trimmed—just as you are going to trim that, Grant."

"I know," I cried, eagerly; "and then—"

"You attend to your apple-tree, sir, and let me tell my story," he said, half gruffly, half in a good-humoured way, and I sawed away with my thin saw till I was quite through, and the stump I had cut off fell with such a bang that the cats all jumped in different directions, and then stared back at the stump with dilated eyes, till, seeing that there was no danger, one big Tom went and rubbed himself against it from end to end, and the others followed suit.

"All at once, as he stood staring at the broken tree, an idea flashed across his brain, Grant."

"Yes," I said, pruning-knife in hand.

"He knew that if he had not cut and trimmed off that branch the limb would have gone on decaying right away, and perhaps have killed the tree."

"Yes, of course," I said, still watching him.

"Isn't your knife sharp enough, my lad?" said Old Brownsmith dryly.

"Yes, sir," I said; and I went on trimming. "Well, he thought that if this saved the tree, why should it not save the life of the man?" and he grew so excited that he went in at once and had a look at the patient, and then went in to the prior, who shook his head.

"'Poor fellow,' he said; 'he will die.'

"'Yes,' said the young monk, 'unless—'

"'Unless—' said the prior.

"'Yes, unless,' said the young monk; and he horrified the prior by telling him all his ideas, while the other monks shook their heads.

"'It could not be done,' they said. 'It would be too horrible.'

"'There is no horror in performing an act like that to save a man's life,' said the young monk; 'it is a duty.'

"'But it would kill the poor fellow,' they chorused.

"'He will die as it is,' said the young monk. 'You said as much when I came in, and I am sure of it.'

"'Yes,' said the prior sadly, 'he will die.'

"'This might save his life,' said the young monk; but the old men shook their heads.

"'Such a thing has never been done,' they said. 'It is too horrible.'

"'And even if it saved his life he would only have one leg.'

"'Better have no legs at all,' said the young monk, 'than die before his time.'

"'But it would be his time,' said the old monks.

"'It would not be his time if I could save his life,' said the young monk.

"But still the old monks shook their heads, and said that no man had ever yet heard of such a thing. It was too terrible to be thought of, and they frowned very severely upon the young monk till the prior, who had been very thoughtful, exclaimed:—

"'And cutting the limb off the apple-tree made you think that?'

"The young monk said that it was so.

"'But a man is not an apple-tree,' said the oldest monk present; and all the others shook their heads again; but, oddly enough, a few minutes later they nodded their heads, for the prior suddenly exclaimed:—

"'Our brother is quite right, and he shall try.'

"There was a strange thrill ran through the monks, but what the prior said was law in those days, Grant, and in a few minutes it was known all through the priory that Brother Anselm was going to cut off the poor swineherd's leg.

"Then—I say, my boy, I wish you'd go on with your work. I can't talk if you do not," said Old Brownsmith, with a comical look at me, and I went on busily again while he continued his story.

"When Brother Anselm had obtained the prior's leave to try his experiment he felt nervous and shrank from the task. He went down the garden and looked at the trees that he had cut, and he felt more than ever that a man was, as the monks said, not an apple-tree. Then he examined the places which looked healthy and well, and he wondered whether if he performed such an operation on the poor patient he also would be healthy and well at the end of a week, and he shook his head and felt nervous."

"If you please, Mr Brownsmith," I said, "I can't go on till you've done, and I must hear the end."

He chuckled a little, and seating himself on a bushel basket which he turned upside down, a couple of cats sprang in his lap, another got on his shoulder, and he went on talking while I thrust an arm through one of the rounds of the ladder, and leaned back against it as he went on.

"Well, Grant," he said, "Brother Anselm felt sorry now that he had leave to perform his experiment, and he went slowly back to the cell and talked to the poor swineherd, a fine handsome, young man with fair curly brown hair and a skin as white as a woman's where the sun had not tanned him.

"And he talked to him about how he felt; and the poor fellow said he felt much better and much worse—that the pain had all gone, but that he did not think he should ever be well any more.

"This set the brother thinking more and more, but he felt that he could do nothing that day, and he waited till the next, lying awake all night thinking of what he would do and how he would do it, till the cold time about sunrise, when he had given up the idea in despair. But when he saw the light coming in the east, with the glorious gold and orange clouds, and then the bright sunshine of a new day, he began to think of how sad it would be for that young man, cut down as he had been in a moment, to be left to die when perhaps he might be saved. He thought, too, about trees that had been cut years before, and which had been healthy and well ever since, and that morning, feeling stronger in his determination, he went to the cell where the patient lay, to talk to him, and the first thing the poor fellow said was:—

"'Tell me the truth, please. I'm going to die, am I not?'

"The young monk was silent.

"'I know it,' said the swineherd sadly. 'I feel it now.'

"Brother Anselm looked at him sadly for a few minutes and then said to him:—

"'I must not deceive you at such a time—yes; but one thing might save your life.'

"'What is that?' cried the poor fellow eagerly; and he told him as gently as he could of the great operation, expecting to see the patient shudder and turn faint.

"'Well,' he said, when the monk had ended, 'why don't you do it?'

"'But would you rather suffer that—would you run the risk?'

"'Am I not a man?' said the poor fellow calmly. 'Yes: life is very sweet, and I would bear any pain that I might live.'

"That settled the matter, and the monk went out of the cell to shut himself up in his own and pray for the space of two hours, and the old monks said that it was all talk, and that he had given up his horrible idea; but the prior knew better, and he was not a bit surprised to see Anselm coming out of his cell looking brave, and calm, and cool.

"Then he took a bottle of plant juice that he knew helped to stop bleeding, and he got ready his bandages, and his keenest knives, and his saw, and a bowl of water, and then he thought for a bit, and ended by asking the monks which of them would help him, but they all shrank away and turned pale, all but the prior, who said he would help, and then they went into the poor fellow's cell."

Old Brownsmith stopped here, and kept on stroking one of the cats for such a long time, beginning at the tip of his nose and going right on to the end of his tail, that I grew impatient.

"And did he perform the operation?" I said eagerly.

"Yes, bravely and well, but of course very clumsily for want of experience. He cut off the leg, Grant, right above where the bone was splintered, and all the terrible irritation was going on."

"And the poor fellow died after all?" I said.

"No, he did not, my lad; it left him terribly weak and he was very low for some days, but he began to mend from the very first, and I suppose when he grew well and strong he had to make himself a wooden leg or else to go about with a crutch. About that I know nothing. There was the poor fellow dying, and there was a gardener who knew that if the broken place were cut Nature would heal it up; for Nature likes to be helped sometimes, my boy, and she is waiting for you now."

"Yes, sir, I'll do it directly," I said, glancing at the stump I had sawn off, and thinking about the swineherd's leg, and half-wondering that it did not bleed; "but tell me, please, is all that true?"

"I'm afraid not, Grant," he said smiling; "but it is my idea—my theory about how our great surgeons gained their first knowledge from a gardener; and if it is not true, it might very well be."

"Yes," I said, looking at him wonderingly as he smoothed the fur of his cats and was surrounded by them, rubbing themselves and purring loudly, "but I did not know you could tell stories like that."

"I did not know it myself, Grant, till I began, and one word coaxed out another. Seriously, though, my boy, there is nothing to be ashamed of in being a gardener."

"I'm not ashamed," I said; "I like it."

"Gardeners can propagate and bring into use plants that may prove to be of great service to man; they can improve vegetables and fruits—and when you come to think of what a number of trees and plants are useful, you see what a field there is to work in! Why, even a man who makes a better cabbage or potato grow than we have had before is one who has been of great service to his fellow-creatures. So work away; you may do something yet."

"Yes," I cried, "I'll work away and as hard as I can; but I begin to wish now that you had some glass."

"So do I," said the old gentleman.

"There!" I said, coming down the ladder, "I think that will heal up now, like the poor swineherd's leg. It's as smooth as smooth."

"Let me look," said a voice behind me; and I started with surprise to find myself face to face with a man who seemed to be Old Brownsmith when he was, if not Young Brownsmith, just about what he would have been at forty.



CHAPTER NINETEEN.

BROTHER SOLOMON.

The new-comer went slowly up the ladder, looked at my work, and then took out a small knife with a flat ivory handle, came down again, stropped the knife on his boot, went up, and pared my stump just round the edge, taking off a very thin smooth piece of bark.

"Good!" he said as he wiped his knife, came down, and put the knife away; "but your knife wanted a touch on a bit o' Turkey-stone. How are you, Ezra?"

Old Brownsmith set down some cats gently, got up off the bushel basket slowly, and shook hands.

"Fairly, Solomon, fairly; and how are you?"

"Tidy," said the visitor, "tidy;" and he stared very hard at me. "This is him, is it?"

"Yes, this is he, Solomon. Grant, my lad, this is my brother Solomon."

I bowed after the old fashion taught at home.

"Shake hands. How are you?" said Mr Solomon; and I shook hands with him and said I was quite well, I thanked him; and he said, "Hah!"

"He has just come up from Hampton, Grant—from Sir Francis Linton's. He's going to take you back."

"Take me back, sir!" I said wonderingly. "Have—have I done anything you don't like?"

"No, my lad, no—only I've taught you all I can; and now you will go with him and learn gardening under glass—to grow peaches, and grapes, and mushrooms, and all kinds of choice flowers."

I looked at him in a troubled way, and he hastened to add:

"A fine opportunity for you, my boy. Brother Solomon is a very famous gardener and takes prizes at the shows."

"Oh! as to that," said Brother Solomon, "we're not much. We do the best we can."

"Horticultural medals, gold and bronze," said Old Brownsmith, smiling. "There!—you'll have to do so as well, Grant, my lad—you will have to do me credit."

I crept close to him and half-whispered:

"But must I go, sir?"

"Yes, my lad, it is for your benefit," he said rather sternly; and I suppose I gave him such a piteous look that his face softened a little and he patted my shoulder. "Come," he said, "you must be a man!"

I seemed to have something in my throat which I was obliged to swallow; but I made an effort, and after a trial or two found that I could speak more clearly.

"Shall I have to go soon, sir?"

"Yes: now," said Old Brownsmith.

"Not till I've had a look round," said Brother Solomon in a slow meditative way, as he took out a handkerchief and wiped his hands, staring about him at the trees and bushes, and then, as a cat gave a friendly rub against his leg, he stooped down after the fashion of his brother, picked it up, and held it on his arm, stroking it all the time.

I had not liked the look of Brother Solomon, for he seemed cold, and quiet, and hard. His face looked stiff, as if he never by any chance smiled; and it appeared to me as if I were going from where I had been treated like a son to a home where I should be a stranger.

"Yes," he said after looking about him, as if he were going to find fault, "I sha'n't go back just yet awhile."

"Oh no! you'll have a snap of something first, and Grant here will want a bit of time to pack up his things."

Old Brownsmith seemed to be speaking more kindly to me now, and this made me all the more miserable, for I had felt quite at home; and though Shock and I were bad friends, and Ike was not much of a companion, I did not want to leave them.

Old Brownsmith saw my looks, and he said:

"You will run over now and then to see me and tell me how you get on. Brother Solomon here never likes to leave his glass-houses, but you can get away now and then. Eh, Solomon?"

"P'r'aps," said Brother Solomon, looking right away from us. "We shall see."

My heart sank as I saw how cold and unsympathetic he seemed. I felt that I should never like him, and that he would never like me. He had hardly looked at me, but when he did there was to me the appearance in his eyes of his being a man who hated all boys as nuisances and to make matters worse, he took his eyes off a bed of onions to turn them suddenly on his brother and say:

"Hadn't he better go and make up his bundle?"

"Yes, to be sure," said Old Brownsmith. "Go and tell Mrs Dodley you want your clean clothes, my boy; and tell her my brother Solomon's going to have a bit with us."

"And see whether your boy has given my horse his oats, will you?" said Brother Solomon.

I went away, feeling very heavy-hearted, and found Shock in the stable, in the next stall to old Basket, watching a fine stoutly-built cob that had just been taken out of a light cart. The horse's head-stall had been taken off, and a halter put on; and as he munched at his oats, Shock helped him, munching away at a few that he took from one hand.

I was in so friendly a mood to every one just then that I was about to go up and shake hands with Shock; but as soon as he saw me coming he dived under the manger, and crept through into old Basket's stall, and then thrust back his doubled fist at me, and there it was being shaken menacingly, as if he were threatening to punch my head.

This exasperated me so that in an instant the honey within me was turned to vinegar, and I made a rush round at him, startling our old horse so that he snorted and plunged; but I did not catch Shock, for he dived back through the hole under the manger into the next stall. Then on under the manger where Brother Solomon's horse was feeding, making him start back and nearly break his halter, while Shock went on into the third stall, disturbing a hen from the nest she had made in the manger, and sending her cackling and screaming out into the yard, where the cock and the other hens joined in the hubbub.

As I ran round to the third stall I was just in time to see Shock's legs disappearing, as he climbed up the perpendicular ladder against the wall, and shot through the trap-door into the hay-loft.

"You shall beg my pardon before I go," I said between my teeth, as I looked up, and there was his grubby fist coming out of the hole in the ceiling, and being shaken at me.

I rushed at the ladder, and had ascended a couple of rounds, when bang went the trap-door, and there was a bump, which I knew meant that Shock had seated himself on the trap, so that I could not get it up.

"Oh, all right!" I said aloud. "I sha'n't come after you, you dirty old grub. I'm going away to-day, and you can shake your fist at somebody else."

I had satisfied myself that Brother Solomon's horse was all right, so I now strode up to the house and told Mrs Dodley to spread the table for a visitor, and said that I should want my clean things as I was going away.

"What! for a holiday?" she said.

"No; I'm going away altogether," I said.

"I know'd it," she cried angrily; "I know'd it. I always said it would come to that with you mixing yourself up with that bye. A nasty dirty hay-and-straw-sleeping young rascal, as is more like a monkey than a bye. And now you're to be sent away."

"Yes," I said grimly; "now I'm to be sent away."

She stood frowning at me for a minute, and then took off her dirty apron and put on a clean one, with a good deal of angry snatching.

"I shall just go and give Mr Brownsmith a bit of my mind," she said. "I won't have you sent away like that, and all on account of that bye."

"No, no," I said. "I'm going away with Mr Brownsmith's brother, to learn all about hothouses I suppose."

"Oh, my dear bye!" she exclaimed. "You mustn't do that. You'll have to be stoking and poking all night long, and ketch your death o' cold, and be laid up, and be ill-used, and be away from everybody who cares for you, and and I don't want you to go."

The tears began to run down the poor homely-looking woman's face, and affected me, so that I was obliged to run out, or I should have caught her complaint.

"I must be a man over it," I said. "I suppose it's right;" and I went off down the garden to say "Good-bye" to the men and women, and have a few last words with Ike.

As I went down the garden I suddenly began to feel that for a long time past it had been my home, and that every tree I passed was an old friend. I had not known it before, but it struck me now that I had been very happy there leading a calm peaceable life; and now I was going away to fresh troubles and cares amongst strangers, and it seemed as if I should never be so happy again.

To make matters worse I was going down the path that I had traversed that day so long ago, when I first went to buy some fruit and flowers for my mother, and this brought back her illness, and the terrible trouble that had followed. Then I seemed to see myself up at the window over the wall there, at Mrs Beeton's, watching the garden, and Shock throwing dabs of clay at me with the stick.

"Poor old Shock!" I said. "I wonder whether he'll be glad when I'm gone. I suppose he will."

I was thinking about how funny it was that we had never become a bit nearer to being friendly, and then I turned miserable and choking, for I came upon half a dozen of the women pulling and bunching onions for market.

"I've come to say good-bye," I cried huskily. "I'm going away."

"Oh! are you?" said one of them just looking up. "Good luck to you!"

The coolness of the rough woman seemed to act as a check on my sentimentality, and I went on feeling quite hurt; and a few minutes later I was quite angry, for I came to where the men were digging, and told them I was going away, and one of them stopped, and stared, and said:

"All right! will yer leave us a lock of yer hair?"

I went on, and they shouted after me:

"I say, stand a gallon o' beer afore you go."

"There's nobody cares for me but poor Mrs Dodley," I said to myself in a choking voice, and then my pride gave me strength.

"Very well," I exclaimed aloud; "if they don't care, I don't, and I'm glad I'm going, and I shall be very glad when I'm gone."

That was not true, for, as I went on, I saw this tree whose pears I had picked, and that apple-tree whose beautiful rosy fruit I had put so carefully into baskets. There were the plum-trees I had learned how to prune and nail, and whose violet and golden fruit I had so often watched ripening. That was where George Day had scrambled over, and I had hung on to his legs, and there—No; I turned away from that path, for there were the two brothers slowly walking along with the cats, looking at the different crops, and I did not want to be seen then by one who was so ready to throw me over, and by the other, who seemed so cold and hard, and was, I felt, going to be a regular tyrant.

"And I'm all alone, and not even a cat to care about me," I said to myself; and, weak and miserable, the tears came into my eyes as I stopped in one of the cross paths.

I started, and dashed away a tear or two that made me feel like a girl, for just then there was a rustle, and looking round, there was one of Old Brownsmith's cats coming along the path with curved back, and tail drooped sidewise, and every hair upon it erect till it looked like a drooping plume.

The cat suddenly rushed at me, stopped short, tore round me, and then ran a little way, and crouched, as if about to make a spring upon me, ending by walking up in a very stately way to rub himself against my leg.

"Why, Ginger, old fellow," I said, "are you come to say good-bye?"

I don't think the cat understood me, but he looked up, blinked, and uttered a pathetic kind of mew that went to my heart, as I stooped down and lifted him up in my arms to hug him to my breast, where he nestled, purring loudly, and inserting his claws gently into my jacket, and tearing them out, as if the act was satisfactory.

He was an ugly great sandy Tom, with stripes down his sides, but he seemed to me just then to be the handsomest cat I had ever seen, and the best friend I had in the world, and I made a vow that I would ask Old Brownsmith to let me have him to take with me, if his brother would allow me to include him in my belongings.

"Will you come with me, Ginger?" I said, stroking him. The cat purred and went on, climbing up to my shoulder, where there was not much room for him, but he set his fore-paws on my shoulder, drove them into my jacket, and let his hind-legs go well down my back before he hooked on there, crouching close to me, and seeming perfectly happy as I walked on wondering where Ike was at work.

I found him at last, busy trenching some ground at the back of Shock's kitchen, as I called the shed where he cooked his potatoes and snails.

As I came up to the old fellow he glanced at me surlily, stopped digging, and began to scrape his big shining spade.

"Hullo!" he said gruffly; and the faint hope that he would be sorry died away.

"Ike," I said, "I'm going away."

"What?" he shouted.

"I'm going to leave here," I said.

"Get out, you discontented warmint!" he cried savagely, "you don't know when you're well off."

"Yes, I do," I said; "but Mr Brownsmith's going to send me away."

"What!" he roared, driving in his spade, and beginning to dig with all his might.

"Mr Brownsmith's going to send me away."

"Old Brownsmith's going to send you away?"

"Yes."

"Why, what have you been a-doin' of?" he cried more fiercely than ever, as he drove his spade into the earth.

"Nothing at all."

"He wouldn't send you away for doing nothing at all," cried Ike, giving an obstinate clod that he had turned up a tremendous blow with his spade, and turning it into soft mould.

"I'm to go to Hampton with Mr Brownsmith's brother," I said, "to learn all about glass-houses."

"What, Old Brownsmith's brother Sol?"

"Yes," I said sadly, as I petted and caressed the cat.

"He's a tartar and a tyrant, that's what he is," said Ike fiercely, and he drove in his spade as if he meant to reach Australia.

"But he understands glass," I said.

"Smash his glass!" growled Ike, digging away like a machine.

"I'm going to-day," I said after a pause, and with all a boy's longing for a sympathetic word or two.

"Oh! are you?" he said sulkily.

"Yes, and I don't know when I shall get over here again."

"Course you don't," growled Ike, smashing another clod. I stood patting the cat, hoping that Ike would stretch out his great rough hand to me to say "Good-bye;" but he went on digging, as if he were very cross.

"I didn't know it till to-day, Ike," I said.

"Ho!" said Ike with a snap, and he bent down to chop an enormous earthworm in two, but instead of doing so he gave it a flip with the corner of his spade, and sent it flying up into a pear-tree, where I saw it hanging across a twig till it writhed itself over, when, one end of its long body being heavier than the other, it dropped back on to the soft earth with a slight pat.

Still Ike did not speak, and all at once I heard Old Brownsmith's voice calling.

"I must go now, Ike," I said, "I'll come back and say 'Good-bye.'"

"And after the way as I've tried to make a man of yer," he said as if talking to his mother earth, which he was chopping so remorselessly.

"It isn't my fault, Ike," I said. "I'll come over and see you again as soon as I can."

"Who said it war your fault?"

"No one, Ike," I said humbly. "Don't be cross with me."

"Who is cross with yer?" cried Ike, cleaning his spade.

"You seemed to be."

"Hah!"

"I will come and see you again as soon as I can," I repeated.

"Nobody don't want you," he growled.

"Grant!"

"Coming, sir," I shouted back, and then I turned to Ike, who dug away as hard as ever he could, without looking at me, and with a sigh I hurried off, feeling that I must have been behaving very ungratefully to him. Then there was a sense as of resentment as I thought of how calmly everybody seemed to take my departure, making me think that I had done nothing to win people's liking, and that I must be a very unpleasant, disagreeable kind of lad, since, with the exception of Mrs Dodley and the cat, nobody seemed to care whether I went away or stayed.



CHAPTER TWENTY.

A COLD START IN A NEW LIFE.

Brother Solomon loitered about the garden with Old Brownsmith, and it was not until we had had an early tea that I had to fetch down my little box to put in the cart, which was standing in the yard with Shock holding the horse, and teasing it by thrusting a barley straw in its nostrils and ears.

As I came down with the box, Mrs Dodley said "Good-bye" very warmly and wetly on my face, giving as she said:

"Mind you send me all your stockings and shirts and I'll always put them right for you, my dear, and Goodbye."

She hurried away, and as soon as my box was in the cart I ran down the garden to say "Good-bye" to Ike; but he had gone home, so I was told, and I came back disappointed.

"Good-bye, Shock!" I said, holding out my hand; but he did not take it, only stared at me stolidly, just as if he hated me and was glad I was going; and this nettled me so that I did not mind his sulkiness, and drawing myself up, I tried hard to smile and look as if I didn't care a bit.

Brother Solomon came slowly towards the cart, rolling the stalk of a rosebud in his mouth, and as he took the reins he said to one of the chimneys at the top of the house:

"If I was you, Ez, I'd plant a good big bit with that winter lettuce. You'll find 'em go off well."

I knew now that he was talking to his brother, but he certainly seemed to be addressing himself to the chimney-pot.

"I will, Sol, a whole rood of 'em," said Old Brownsmith, "and thank ye for the advice."

"Quite welkim," said Brother Solomon to the horse's ears. "Jump up."

He seemed to say this to Shock, who stared at him, wrinkled up his face, and shook his head.

"Yes, jump up, Grant, my lad," said Old Brownsmith. "Fine evening for your drive."

"Yes, sir," I said, "good-bye; and say good-bye to Ike for me, will you, please?"

"Yes, to be sure, good-bye; God bless you, lad; and do your best."

And I was so firm and hard just before, thinking no one cared for me, that I was ready to smile as I went away.

That "God bless you!" did it, and that firm pressure of the hand. He did like me, then, and was sorry I was going; and though I tried to speak, not a word would come. I could only pinch my lips together and give him an agonised look—the look of an orphan boy going off into what was to him an unknown world.

I was so blinded by a kind of mist in my eyes that I could not distinctly see that all the men and women were gathered together close to the cart, it being near leaving time; but I did see that Brother Solomon nodded at one of the gate-posts, as he said:

"Tlck! go on."

And then, as the wheels turned and we were going out of the gate, there was a hoarse "Hooroar!" from the men, and a shrill "Hurray!" from the women; and then—whack!

A great stone had hit the panel at the back of the cart, and I knew without telling that it was Shock who had thrown that stone.

Then we were fairly off, with Brother Solomon sitting straight up in the cart beside me, and the horse throwing out his legs in a great swinging trot that soon carried us past the walls of Old Brownsmith's garden, and past the hedges into the main road, on a glorious evening that had succeeded the storm of the previous night; but, fast as the horse went, Brother Solomon did not seem satisfied, for he kept on screwing up his lips and making a noise, like a young thrush just out of the nest, to hurry the horse on, but it had not the slightest effect, for the animal had its own pace—a very quick one, and kept to it.

I never remember the lane to have looked so beautiful before. The great elm-trees in the hedgerow seemed gilded by the sinking sun, and the fields were of a glorious green, while a flock of rooks, startled by the horse's hoofs, flew off with a loud cawing noise, and I could see the purply black feathers on their backs glisten as they caught the light.

The wheels spun round and seemed to form a kind of tune that had something to do with my going away, while as the horse trotted on and on, uttering a snort at times as if glad to be homeward bound, my heart seemed to sink lower and lower, and I looked in vain for a sympathetic glance or a word of encouragement and comfort from the silent stolid man at my side.

"But some of them were sorry I was going!" I thought with a flash of joy, which went away at once as I recalled the behaviour of Ike and Shock, towards whom I felt something like resentment, till I thought again that I was for the second time going away from home, and this time among people who were all as strange as strange could be.

At any other time it would have been a pleasant evening drive, but certainly one wanted a different driver, for whether it was our crops at Old Brownsmith's, or the idea that he had undertaken a great responsibility in taking charge of me, or whether at any moment he anticipated meeting with an accident, I don't know. All I do know is that Mr Solomon did not speak to me once, but sat rolling the flower-stalk in his mouth, and staring right before him, aiming straight at some place or another that was going to be my prison, and all the while the sturdy horse trotted fast, the wheels spun round, and there was a disposition on the part of my box to hop and slide about on the great knot in the centre made by the cord.

Fields and hedgerows, and gentlemen's residences with lawns and gardens, first on one side and then on another, but they only suggested hiding-places to me as I sat there wondering what would be the consequences if I were to slip over the back of the seat on to my box when Mr Solomon was not looking, and then over the back of the cart and escape.

The idea was too childish, but it kept coming again and again all through that dismal journey.

All at once, after an hour's drive, I caught sight of a great white house among some trees, and as we passed it Mr Solomon slowly turned round to me and gave his head a jerk, which nearly shook off his hat. Then he poked it back straight with the handle of his whip, and I wondered what he meant; but realised directly after that he wished to draw my attention to that house as being probably the one to which we were bound, for a few minutes later, after driving for some distance by a high blank wall, he stuck the whip behind him, and the horse stopped of its own accord with its nose close to some great closed gates.

On either side of these was a brick pillar, with what looked like an enormous stone egg in an egg-cup on the top, while on the right-hand pillar there was painted a square white patch, in the centre of which was a black knob looking out of it like an eye.

I quite started, so wrapped was I in thought, when Mr Solomon spoke for the first time in a sharp decided way.

"Pop out and pull that bell," he said, looking at it as if he wondered whether it would ring without being touched.

I hurriedly got down and pulled the knob, feeling ashamed the next moment for my act seemed to have awakened the sleepy place. There was a tremendous jangling of a great angry-voiced bell which sounded hollow and echoing all over the place; there was the rattling of chains, as half a dozen dogs seemed to have rushed out of their kennels, and they began baying furiously, with the result that the horse threw up his head and uttered a loud neigh. Then there was a trampling, as of some one in very heavy nailed boots over a paved yard, and after the rattling of bolts, the clang of a great iron bar, and the sharp click of a big lock, a sour-looking man drew back first one gate and then the other, each fold uttering a dissatisfied creak as if disliking to be disturbed.

The horse wanted no driving, but walked right into the yard and across to a large open shed, while five dogs—there were not six—barked and bayed at me, tugging at their chains. There was a large Newfoundland— this was before the days of Saint Bernards—a couple of spotted coach-dogs, a great hound of some kind with shortly cropped ears, and looking like a terrier grown out of knowledge, and a curly black retriever, each of which had a great green kennel, and they tugged so furiously at their chains that it seemed as if they would drag their houses across the yard in an attack upon the stranger.

"Get out!" shouted Mr Solomon as the sour-looking man closed and fastened the doors; but the dogs barked the more furiously. "Here, come along," said Mr Solomon to me, and he took me up to the great furious-looking hound on whose neck, as I approached, I could see a brass collar studded with spikes, while as we closed up, his white teeth glistened, and I could see right into his great red mouth with its black gums.

"Hi, Nero!" cried Mr Solomon, as I began to feel extremely nervous. "Steady, boy. This is Grant. Now, Grant, make friends."

There was a tremendous chorus of barks here, just as if Nero was out of patience, and the other four dogs were savage because he was going to be fed with the new boy before them; but as Mr Solomon laid his hand on the great fierce-looking beast's head it ceased barking, and the others stopped as well.

"He won't hurt you now," said Mr Solomon. "Come close."

I did not like the task, for I was doubtful of the gardener's knowledge, but I did go close up, and the great dog began to smell me from my toes upwards, and subsided into a low growl that sounded like disappointment that he was not to eat me.

"Pat him now," said Mr Solomon.

I obeyed rather nervously, and the great dog threw up his head and began striking at me with one great paw, which I found meant that it was to be taken, and I gave it a friendly shake.

Hereupon there was a chorus of short sharp whining barks and snaps from the other dogs, all of which began to strain at their chains with renewed vigour.

"Go and pat 'em all," said Mr Solomon; "they'll make friends now."

I went to the great shaggy Newfoundland, who smelt me, and then threw himself up on his hind legs, and hanging against his chain put out his tongue in the most rollicking fashion, and offered me both his hands—I mean paws—in token of friendship. Then the retriever literally danced, and yelped, and jumped over his chain, favouring me with a lick or two on the hand, while the two spotted coach-dogs cowered down, licked my boots, and yelped as I patted them in turn.

Only so many dogs, who barked again as I left them, but it seemed to do me good, and I felt better and readier to help Mr Solomon when he called me to aid in unharnessing the horse, which trotted of its own free-will into its stable, while we ran the cart back into the shed, and lifted my box out on to the stones.

"That'll be all right till we fetch it," said Mr Solomon in his quiet dry way, and he led the way into the stable, where, as I was thinking how hard and unfriendly he seemed, he went up to the horse, patted it kindly, and ended by going to a bin, filling a large measure with oats; and taking them to the horse, which gave a snort of satisfaction as they were turned into its manger.

"Shall I get a pail of water for him, sir?" I said.

He looked at me and nodded, and I went out to a great pump in the middle of the yard with a hook on its spout, upon which I was able to hang the stable pail as I worked hard to throw the long handle up and down.

"Wages!" said Mr Solomon, taking the pail from me and holding it for the horse to drink.

For the moment I felt confused, not knowing whether he meant that as a question about what wages I required, but he turned his back, and by degrees I found that he meant that the corn and water were the horse's wages.

He busied himself about the horse for some minutes in a quiet punctilious way, for the sour-looking man had gone, and as I waited about, the great yard seemed with its big wall and gates, and dog-kennels, such a cold cheerless place that the trees had all turned the shabby parts of their backs to it and were looking the other way. Everything was very prim and clean and freshly painted, and only in one place could I see some short grass peeping between the stones. There was a patch of moss, too, like a dark green velvet pin-cushion on the top of the little penthouse where the big bell lived on the end of a great curly spring, otherwise everything was carefully painted, and the row of stabling buildings with rooms over looked like prisons for horses and their warders, who must, I felt, live very unhappy lives.

There was one door up in a corner of the great yard, right in the wall, and down towards this, from where it had grown on the other side, there hung a few strands of ivy in a very untidy fashion, and it struck me that this ivy did not belong to the yard, or else it would have been clipped or cut away.

In summer, with the warm glow of the setting sun in the sky, the place looked shivery and depressing, and as I waited for Mr Solomon I found myself thinking what a place it must be in the winter when the snow had fallen and drifted into the corners, and how miserable the poor dogs must be.

Then as I stood looking at my box and wondering what Shock was doing, and whether he had gone to his home or was sleeping in the loft, and why Ike was so surly to me, and what a miserable piece of business it was that I should have to leave that pleasant old garden and Old Brownsmith, I suddenly felt a hand laid upon my shoulder.

I started and stared as I saw Mr Solomon's cold, stern face.

"Come along," he said; and he led the way to that door in the corner that seemed to me as if it led into an inner prison.

I shivered and felt depressed and cold as we went towards the door, and, to make matters worse, the dogs rattled their chains and howled in chorus as if, having made friends, they were very sorry for me. The big hound, Nero, seemed the most sorrowful of all, and putting his head as high as he could reach he uttered a deep hollow howl, that to my excited fancy sounded like "Poooooor boooooy!" just as Mr Solomon, with a face as stern as an executioner's might have been as he led someone to the Tower block, threw open the great door in the wall and said shortly:

"Go on!"

I went on before him, passed through in a wretched, despairing way, wishing I had been a boy like Shock, who was not ashamed to run away, and then, as I took a few steps forward, I uttered a loud "Oh!"



CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

I LOOK ROUND.

My ejaculation made Mr Solomon look completely changed, for, as I glanced back at him, I could see that there was a twinkle in his eyes and a little dent or two about the corners of his lips, but as he saw me looking wonderingly at him he became cold and stern of aspect again.

"Well," he said shortly, "will that do?"

"Do, sir!" I cried excitedly; "is this your garden?"

"Master's," he said, shortly.

"Your master's garden?"

"And your master's, too," he said. "Well, will it do?"

"Do!" I cried; "it's lovely. I never saw such a beautiful garden in my life. What a lawn! what paths! what flowers!"

"What a lot o' work, eh? What a lot to do?"

"Yes," I said; "but what a place!"

After that cold cheerless yard I seemed to have stepped into a perfect paradise of flowers and ornamental evergreens. A lawn like green velvet led up to a vast, closely-clipped yew hedge, and down to a glistening pool, full of great broad lily leaves, and with the silver cups floating on the golden surface, for the water reflected the tints in the skies. Here and there were grey-looking statues in nooks among the evergreens, and the great beauty of all to me was that there was no regularity about the place; it was all up and down, and fresh beauties struck the eye at every glance. Paths wandered here and there, great clumps of ornamental trees hid other clumps, and patches of soft velvet turf were everywhere showing up beds in which were masses of flowers of every hue. There were cedars, too, that seemed to be laying their great broad boughs upon the grass in utter weariness—they were so heavy and thick; slopes that were masses of rhododendrons, and when I had feasted my eyes for a time on one part Mr Solomon led me on in his serious way to another, where fresh points of beauty struck the eye.

"It's lovely," I cried. "Oh! Mr Solomon, what a garden!"

"Mr Brownsmith, not Mr Solomon," he said rather gruffly; and I apologised and remembered; but I must go on calling him Mr Solomon to distinguish him from my older friend.

"I never saw such a place," I added; "and it's kept so well."

"Tidyish—pretty tidy," he said coldly. "Not enough hands. Only nine and me—and you—but we do our best."

"Why, it's perfection!" I cried.

"No it ain't," he said gruffly. "Too much glass. Takes a deal o' time. I shall make you a glass boy mostly."

"Make me—a what, sir?"

"Glass boy. You'll see."

I said "Oh," and began to understand.

"Was it like this when you came?" I said.

I was very glad I said it, for Mr Solomon's mouth twitched, then his eyes closed, and there were pleasant wrinkles all over his face, while he shook himself all over, and made a sound, or series of sounds, as if he were trying to bray like a donkey. I thought he was at first, but it was his way of laughing, and he pulled himself up short directly and looked quite severe as he smoothed the wrinkles out of his face as if it were a bed, and he had been using a rake.

"Not a bit," he said. "Twenty years ago. Bit of garden to the house with the big trees and cedars. All the rest fields and a great up-and-down gravel pit."

"And you made it like this?" I cried with animation.

He nodded.

"Like it?" he asked.

"Like it!" I cried. "Oh!"

"Come along," he said. "This is the ornamental. Useful along here."

I followed him down a curving path, and at a turn he gave his head a jerk over his right shoulder.

"House!" he said.

I looked in the indicated direction, and could see the very handsome long, low, white house, with a broad green verandah in the front, and a great range of conservatories at one end, whose glass glistened in the evening light. The house stood on a kind of terrace, and lawn, and patches of flowers and shrubs sloped away from it down into quite a dell.

"Old gravel, pits," said Mr Solomon, noticing the way I gazed about the place. "Come along."

He walked up to a great thick yew hedge with an archway of deep green in it, and as soon as we were through he said shortly:

"Useful."

I stared with wonder, for though I was now in a fruit and vegetable garden it was wonderfully different to Old Brownsmith's, for here, in addition to exquisite neatness, there was some attempt at ornamentation. As soon as we had passed under the green arch we were on a great grass walk, beautifully soft and velvety, with here and there stone seats, and a group of stone figures at the farther end. Right and left were abundance of old-fashioned flowers, but in addition there were neatly trained and trimmed fruit-trees by the hundred, not allowed to grow high like ours, but tied down as espaliers, and full of the promise of fruit.

Away right and left I could see great red brick walls covered with more fruit-trees spread out like fans, or with one big stem going straight up and the branches trained right and left in straight lines.

Everywhere the garden was a scene of abundance: great asparagus beds, trim and well-kept rows of peas laden with pods, scarlet-runners running at a tremendous rate up sticks; and lower down, quite an orchard of big pyramid pear and apple trees.

"Like it?" said Mr Solomon, watching me narrowly.

"I can't tell you how much, sir!" I cried excitedly. "I never thought to see such a garden as this."

"Ain't half seen it yet," he replied. "Come and see the glass."

He led me towards where I could see ranges of glass houses, looking white and shining amongst the trees, and as we went on he pointed to different plots of vegetables and other objects of interest.

"Pump and well," he said. "Deep. 'Nother at the bottom. Dry in summer; plenty in the pools. Frames and pits yonder. Nobody at home but the young gents. Wish they weren't," he added in a growl. "Limbs, both of them. Like to know where you are to live?" he said.

"Yes, sir. Is it at the house?"

"No. Yonder."

He pointed to a low cottage covered with a large wisteria, and built almost in the middle of the great fruit and vegetable garden, while between it and the great yew hedge lay the range of glass houses.

"You can find your way?"

"Yes, sir," I said, feeling damped again by his cold manner. "Are you going?"

"Yes, now."

"Shall I fetch my box, sir?"

"No; I told Tom to take it to the cottage. You would like to look round and see where you'll work? Don't want to begin to-night, eh?"

"Yes, sir, I'm ready, if you like," I said.

"Humph!" he ejaculated. "Well, perhaps we'll go and look at the fires by and by. You're my apprentice now, you know."

"Am I, sir?"

"Yes; didn't Brother Ezra tell you?"

I shook my head.

"Don't matter. Come to learn glass. There's the houses; go and look round. I'll call you when supper's ready."

I don't know whether I felt in good spirits or bad; but soon ceased to think of everything but what I was seeing, as, being about to become a glass boy, I entered one of the great hothouses belonging to the large range of glass buildings.

A warm sweet-scented puff of air saluted me as I raised the copper latch of the door, and found myself in a great red-tiled vinery, with long canes trained from the rich soil at the roots straight up to the very ridge, while, with wonderful regularity, large bunches like inverted cones of great black grapes hung suspended from the tied-in twigs. There were rows of black iron pipes along the sides from which rose a soft heat, and the effect of this was visible in the rich juicy-looking berries covered with a pearly bloom, while from succulent shoot, leaf, and tendril rose the delicious scent that had saluted me as soon as I entered the place.

From this glass palace of a house, as it seemed to me, I went down into a far hotter place, where the walls were whitewashed and the glass roof very low. There was a peculiar odour of tan here, and as I closed the door after me the atmosphere felt hot and steamy.

But the sight that greeted my eyes made me forget all other sensations, for there all along the centre were what seemed to be beautiful, luxuriant aloes; and as I thought of the old story that they bloomed only once in a hundred years, I began to wonder how long it was since one of these spiky-leaved plants had blossomed, and then I cried excitedly:

"Pine-apples!"

True enough they were, for I had entered a large pinery where fruits were ripening and others coming on in the most beautiful manner, while what struck me most was the perfection and neatness of all the place.

Then I found myself in another grape-house where the vines bore oval white grapes, with a label to tell that they were Muscats. Then I went on into a long low house full of figs—small dumpy fig-trees in pots, with a peculiar odour rising from them through the hot moist air.

Again I was in a long low place something like the pinery, and here I was amongst melons—large netted-skinned melons of all sizes, some being quite huge, and apparently ready to cut.

I could have stayed in these various houses for hours, but I was anxious to see all I could, and I passed on over the red-tiled floor to a door which opened at once into the largest and most spacious house I had seen.

Here the air was comparatively cool, and there was quite a soft breeze from the open windows as I walked along between little trees that formed a complete grove, with cross paths and side walks, and every long leaf looking dark and clear and healthy.

I could not keep back an exclamation of delight as I stopped in one of the paths of this beautiful little grove; for all about me the trees were laden with fruit in a way that set me thinking of the garden traversed by Aladdin when in search of the wonderful lamp.

I was in no magic cave, it is true, but I was in a sort of crystal palace of great extent, with here and there beautiful creepers running along rods up the sides and across close to the roof, while my trees were not laden with what looked like bits of coloured glass, but the loveliest of fruit, some smooth and of rich, deep, fiery crimson; others yellowish or with russet gold on their smooth skins, while others again were larger and covered with a fine down, upon which lay a rich soft carmine flush.

I had seen peaches and nectarines growing before, trained up against walls; but here they were studded about beautiful little unsupported trees, and their numbers and the novelty of the sight were to me delightful.

I began to understand now why Old Brownsmith had arranged with his brother for me to come; and, full of visions of the future and of how I was going to learn how to grow fruit in this perfection, I stopped, gazing here and there at the ripe and ripening peaches, that looked so beautiful that I thought it would be a sin for them to be picked.

In fact, I had been so long amongst fruit that, though I liked it, I found so much pleasure in its production that I rarely thought of eating any, and though this sounds a strange thing for a boy to say, it is none the less perfectly true. In fact, as a rule, gardeners rather grudge themselves a taste of their own delicacies.

I must have been in this house a full quarter of an hour, and had only seen one end, and I had turned into a cross walk of red tiles looking to right and left, when, just beyond the stem of one peach-tree whose fruit was ripening and had ripened fast, I saw just as it had fallen one great juicy peach with a bruise on its side, and a crack through which its delicious essence was escaping. Pale creamy was the downy skin, with a bloom of softest crimson on the side beyond the bruise and crack, and making a soft hissing noise as I drew in my breath—a noise that I meant to express, "Oh, what a pity!"—I stooped down and reached over to pick up the damaged fruit, and to lay it upon one of the open shelves where I had seen a couple more already placed.

I heard no step, had seen no one in the place, but just as I leaned over to get the fruit there was a swishing sound as of something parting the air with great swiftness, and I uttered a cry of pain, for I felt a sensation as if a sharp knife had suddenly fallen upon my back, and that knife was red hot, and, after it had divided it, had seared the flesh.

I had taken the peach in my hand when the pain made me involuntarily crush it before it fell from my fingers upon the rich earth; and, grinding my teeth with rage and agony, I started round to face whoever it was that had struck me so cruel a blow.



CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

MASTER PHILIP.

"What! I caught you then, did I?" cried a sharp unpleasant voice. "Just dropped upon you, did I, my fine fellow? You scoundrel, how dare you steal our peaches!"

The speaker was a boy of somewhere about my own age, and as I faced him I saw that he was thin, and had black hair, a yellowish skin, and dark eyes. He was showing his rather irregular teeth in a sneering smile that made his hooked nose seem to hang over his mouth, while his high-pitched, harsh, girlish voice rang and buzzed in my ears in a discordant way.

I did not answer; I felt as if I could not speak. All I wanted to do was to fly at him and strike out wildly, while something seemed to hold me back as he stood vapouring before me, swishing about the thin, black, silver-handled cane he carried, and at every swish he cut some leaf or twig.

"How dare you strike me?" I cried at last furiously, and I advanced with my teeth set and my lists clenched, forgetting my position there, and not even troubling myself in my hot passion to wonder who or what this boy might be.

"How dare I, you ugly-looking dog!" he cried, retreating before me a step or two. "I'll soon let you know that. Who are you, you thief?"

"I'm not a thief," I shouted, wincing still with the pain.

"Yes, you are," he cried. "How did you get in here? I've caught you, though, and we shall know now where our fruit goes when we get the blame. Here, out you come."

The boy caught me by the collar, and I seized him by the arms with a fierce, vindictive feeling coming over me; but he was very light and active, and, wresting himself partly free, he gave the cane a swing in the air, raised it above his head, and struck at me with all his might.

I hardly know how it all occurred in the hurry and excitement, but I know that I gave myself a wrench round, driving him back as I did so, and making a grasp at the cane with the full intention of getting it from him and thrashing him as hard as I could in return for his blow.

He missed his aim: I missed mine. My hand did not go near the cane; the cane did not come down as he intended upon my back, but with a fierce swish struck the branch of one of the peaches, breaking it so that it hung by the bark and a few fibres, while three or four of the ripe fruit fell with heavy thuds upon the ground.

"There, now you've done it, you young rough!" he cried viciously. "Come out."

His dark eyes glowed, and he showed his white teeth as he struck at me again and again; but I avoided the blows as I wrestled with him, and at last my sturdy strength, helped by the work I had had in Old Brownsmith's garden, told, and I got hold of the cane, forced open his hand, and wrested it away.

I remember very well the triumphant feeling that came over me as I raised the cane and was in the act of bringing it down with all my might, when there was a strong hand from behind upon my shoulder, and another caught my arm, ran down it to the wrist and hand, wrested the cane away, and swung me round.

It was Mr Solomon, looking very red in the face, and frowning at me severely.

"What are you doing?" he cried. "Do you know who that is?"

"He struck me with the cane."

"He was stealing peaches."

"I was not; I was picking one up."

"He was stealing them. Just look what he has done."

"I did not do it, Mr Solomon," I cried. "It was he."

"Oh, what a cracker, Brownie! I came and caught him at it; and because I said he was a thief he hit at me with that cane."

"How did he get the cane? Why, it's yours," said Mr Solomon; "and I believe you broke that young peach."

"Get out! It was he. Take him to the police. I caught him at it."

Mr Solomon stooped and picked up the bruised and fallen peaches, laid them on a shelf, and then took out his knife and cut away the broken bough neatly.

Then he stood and looked at it for a moment, and the sight of the damage roused up a feeling of anger in him, for he turned sharply.

"Here, you be off!" he said, advancing on the boy with the cane under his arm.

For answer the boy snatched the cane away. "What do you say?" he cried haughtily.

"I say you be off out of my glass-houses, Master Philip. I won't have you here, and so I tell you."

"How dare you talk to me like that?" cried the boy.

"Dare! I'll dare a deal more than that, young fellow, if you are not off," cried Mr Solomon, who was a great deal more excited and animated than I should have imagined possible. "I'm not going to have my fruit spoiled like this."

"Your fruit indeed! I like that," cried the boy. "Yours?"

"See what you've done to my Royal George!"

"See what I've done to your Royal George!"—mockingly.

"Now be off," cried Mr Solomon. "Serves me right for not keeping the houses locked up. Now, then, you be off out."

"Sha'n't," said the boy. "I shall stop here as long as I like. You touch me if you dare. If you do I'll tell papa."

"I shall tell him myself, my lad," cried Mr Solomon.

"You forget who I am," cried the boy.

"I don't know anything about who you are when my show of fruit's being spoiled," replied Mr Solomon. "A mischievous boy's a boy doing mischief to me when I catch him, and I won't have him here."

"Turn him out, then," cried the boy; "turn out that rough young blackguard. I came in and caught him picking and stealing, and I gave him such a one."

He switched his cane as he spoke, and looked at me so maliciously that I took a step forward, but Mr Solomon caught me sharply by the shoulder and uttered a low warning growl.

"I don't believe he was stealing the fruit," said Mr Solomon slowly. "He has got a good character, Master Philip, and that's what you haven't been able to show."

"If you talk to me like that I'll tell papa everything, and have you discharged."

"Do!" said Mr Solomon.

"And I'll tell papa that you are always having in your friends, and showing 'em round the garden. What's that beggar doing in our hothouses?"

"I'm not a beggar," I cried hotly.

"Hold your tongue, Grant," said Mr Solomon in a low growl as he trimmed off a broken twig that had escaped him at first.

"It was lucky I came in," continued the boy, looking at me tauntingly. "If I hadn't come I don't know how many he wouldn't have had."

"Mr Brownsmith," I said, as I smarted with pain, rage, and the desire to get hold of that cane once more, and use it, "I found a peach lying on the ground, and I was going to pick it up."

"And eat it?" said the gardener without looking at me.

"Eat it! No," I said hotly, "I can go amongst fruit without wanting to eat it like a little child."

I looked at him indignantly, for he seemed to be suspecting me, he was so cold and hard, and distant in his manner.

"Mr Brownsmith always trusted me amongst his fruit," I said angrily.

"Humph!" said Mr Solomon, "and so you weren't going to eat the peach?"

"He was; I saw him. It was close up to his mouth."

"It is not true," I cried.

"He isn't fit to be trusted in here, and I shall tell papa how I saved the peaches. He won't like it when he hears."

"I won't stop a day in the place," I said to myself in the heat of my indignation, for Mr Solomon seemed to be doubting me, and I felt as if I couldn't bear to be suspected of being a thief.

My attention was taken from myself to the boy and Mr Solomon the next moment, for there was a scene.

"Now," said Mr Solomon, "I want to lock up this house, young gentleman, so out you go."

"You can come when I've done," said the boy, poking at first one fruit and then another with the cane, as he strutted about. "I'm not going yet."

He was in the act of touching a ripe nectarine when Mr Solomon looked as if he could bear it no longer, and he snatched the cane away.

"Here, you give me my cane," cried the boy. "You be off out, sir."

"Sha'n't!"

"Will you go?"

"No. Don't you push me!"

"Walk out then."

"Sha'n't. It's our place, and I sha'n't go for you."

"Will you go out quietly?"

"No, I shall stop as long as I like."

"Once more, Master Philip, will you go?"

"No!" yelled the boy; "and you give me back my cane."

"Will you go, sir? Once more."

"Send that beggar away, and not me," cried the boy.

"I shall stop till I choose to go, and I shall pick the peaches if I like."

Mr Solomon looked down at him aghast for a few moments, and then, as the boy made a snatch at his cane, he caught him up, tucked him under his arm, and carried him out, kicking and struggling with all his might.

I followed close behind, thoroughly enjoying the discomfiture of my enemy, and was the better satisfied for seeing the boy thrown down pretty heavily upon a heap of mowings of the lawn.

"I'll pay you for this," cried the boy, who had recovered his cane; and, giving it a swish through the air, he raised it as if about to strike Mr Solomon across the face.

I saw Mr Solomon colour up of a deeper red as he looked at the boy very hard; and then he said softly, but in a curious hissing way:

"I shouldn't advise you to do that, young sir. If you did I might forget you were Sir Francis' boy, and take and pitch you into the gold-fish pond. I feel just as if I should like to do it without."

The boy quailed before his stern look, and uttered a nasty sniggering laugh.

"I can get in any of the houses when I like, and I can take the fruit when I like, and I'll let papa know about your beggars of friends meddling with the peaches."

"There, you be off," said the gardener. "I'll tell Sir Francis too, as sure as my name's Brownsmith."

"Ha—ha—ha! There's a name!" cried the boy jeeringly. "Brownsmith. What a name for a cabbage-builder, who pretends to be a gardener, and is only an old woman about the place! Roberts's gardener is worth a hundred Sol Brownsmiths. He grows finer fruit and better flowers, and you'll soon be kicked out. Perhaps papa will send you away now."

Mr Solomon bit his lips as he locked the door, for he was touched in a tender place, for, as I found out afterwards, he was very jealous of the success of General Roberts's gardener.

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.