Brownsmiths Boy - A Romance in a Garden - Page 144/241

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.