Brownsmiths Boy - A Romance in a Garden - Page 151/241

"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.