Brownsmiths Boy - A Romance in a Garden - Page 31/241

I said again that I was very well; and he looked at me thoughtfully, put

one end of a bit of matting between his teeth, and drew it out tightly

with his left hand. Then he began to twang it thoughtfully, and made it

give out a dull musical note.

"Seen my new pansies?" he said--"no, of course not," he added quickly;

"and I asked you before. Come and look at them."

He led me to a bed which was full of beautifully rounded,

velvety-petalled flowers.

"What do you think of them?" he said--"eh? There's a fine one,

Mulberry Superb; rich colour--eh?"

"They are lovely," I said warmly.

"Hah! yes!" he said, looking at me thoughtfully; "she liked white roses,

though--yes, white roses--and they are all over."

My lip began to quiver, but I mastered the emotion and he went on: "Thought I should have seen you before, my lad. Didn't think I should

see you for some time. Thought perhaps I should never see you again.

Thought you'd be sure to come and say `Good-bye!' before you went.

Contradictions--eh?"

"I always meant to come over and see you, Mr Brownsmith," I said.

"Of course you did, my lad. Been damp and cold. Want more sun badly."

I said I hoped the weather would soon change, and I began to feel

uncomfortable and was just thinking I would go, when he thrust the piece

of matting in his pocket, and took up and began stroking one of the

cats.

"Ah! it's a bad job, my lad!" he said softly--"a terrible job!"

I nodded.

"A sad job, my lad!--a very sad job!"

I nodded again, and waited till a choking sensation had gone off.

"Boys don't think enough about their mothers--some boys don't," he went

on. "I didn't, till she was took away. You did--stopped with her a

deal."

"I'm afraid,"--I began.

"I'm not," he said, interrupting me hastily. "I notice a deal--weather,

and people, and children, and boys, and things growing. Want sun

badly--don't we?"

"Yes, sir," I said; and I looked up in his florid face, with its bushy

white whiskers; and then I looked at his great bulging pockets, and next

down lower at his black legs, which the cats were turning into

rubbing-posts; and as they served me the same in the most friendly

manner I began wondering whether he ever brushed his black trousers, and

thought of what a job I should have to get all the cats' hairs off mine.

For there they all were, quite a little troop, arching their backs and

purring, sticking their tails straight up, and every now and then giving

their ends a flick.

They were so friendly in their rubbings against me that I did not like

to refuse to accept their salutes; but it seemed to me as if only the

light-coloured hairs came off, and in a short time I was furry from the

knees of my black trousers down to my boots.