Brownsmiths Boy - A Romance in a Garden - Page 159/241

I looked at him wonderingly, for he was pointing at a syringe standing

in a pail of soapy-looking water.

"Yes," he continued, "that's right--kill 'em when you can. If you leave

them, and greenfly, and those sort of things, alone till to-morrow, by

that time they're turned into great-grandfathers, and have got such a

family of little ones about 'em that your leaves are ten times worse."

"But what are those red specks?" I said.

"Red spider, boy. Now I'll show you. This is my plan to keep my plants

healthy: have a bucket of soap and water in every house, and a syringe

in it. Then you take it up as soon as you see the mischief and kill it

at once. It's all handy for you, same as it is to have a bit of matting

hanging up on a nail, ready to tie up the stem that wants it. Somebody

said, Grant, `A stitch in time saves nine,' it ought to have been, `A

washed leaf keeps off grief.' See here."

He took the syringe, filled it, and sent a fine shower beneath the

leaves of the melons, where they were trained over a trellis, thoroughly

washing them all over.

"Now you try," he said, and taking off my jacket I syringed away

vigorously, while with matting and knife he tied in some loose strands

and cut off others, so as to leave the vines neat.

"That'll do for the present," he said; "but mind this, Grant, if ever

you see an enemy, shoot him while he's a single man if you can. Wait

till to-morrow, you'll have to shoot all his relations too."

He led the way out of the pit, and round by the grounds, where different

men were at work mowing and sweeping, the short cut grass smelling

delicious in the morning air. He spoke to first one and then another in

a short business-like way, and then went on with me to one of the great

conservatories up by the house.

"I might put you to that sort of work, Grant," he said, giving his head

a backward jerk; "but that wants no brains. Work under glass does. You

want to work with your hands and your head. Now we'll have a tidy up in

here. Sir Francis likes plenty of bright flowers."

I should have liked to stop looking about as soon as we were in the

large glass building, which was one mass of bloom; but following Mr

Solomon's example I was soon busily snipping off dead flowers and

leaves, so as to make the various plants tidy; and I was extremely busy

in one corner over this when I suddenly found that Mr Solomon was

watching me, and that a big bell was ringing somewhere.