Brownsmiths Boy - A Romance in a Garden - Page 153/241

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.

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

know."

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

"What's he, the new boy?" said the lad, as if asking a very innocent

question. "Where did you get him, Brownsmith? Is he out of the

workhouse?"

Mr Solomon smiled at the boy's malice, but he saw me wince, and he drew

me to his side in an instant. I had been thinking what a cold, hard man

he was, and how different to his brother, who had been quite fatherly to

me of late; but I found out now that he was, under his stern outward

seeming, as good-hearted as Old Brownsmith himself.

He did not speak, but he laid one hand upon my shoulder and pressed it,

and that hand seemed to say to me: "Don't take any notice of the little-minded, contemptible, spoiled cub;"

and I drew a deep breath and began to feel that perhaps after all I

should not want to go away.

"I thought so," cried the boy with a snigger--"he's a pauper then. Ha,

ha, ha! a pauper! I'll tell Courtenay. We'll call him pauper if he

stops here."

"And that's just what he is going to do, Master Philip," said the head

gardener, who seemed to have recovered his temper; "and that's what,

thank goodness, you are not going to do. And the sooner you are off

back to school to be licked into shape the better for you, that is if

ever you expect to grow into a man. Come along, my lad, it's getting

late."

"Yes, take him away," shouted the boy as I went off with Mr Solomon, my

blood seeming to tingle in my veins as I heard a jeering burst of

laughter behind me, and directly after the boy shouted: "Here, hi! Courtenay. Here's a game. We've got a new pauper in the

place."