"Ain't going to die, is she?"
"Oh no!" I said sharply.
"That's all right. Well, you get her to let you come. What's your
name?"
"Grant," I said.
"Grant! Grant what?"
"Dennison."
"Oh, all right, Grant! I shall call for you next half-holiday; and mind
you come."
"Stop a moment," I said. "What's your name?"
"George Day," he replied; and then my new friend trotted off, swinging
half-a-dozen books at the end of a strap, and I sat at the window
wishing that I too could go to school and have a strap to put round my
books and swing them, for my life seemed very dull.
All at once I saw something amongst the bristly young shoots of the
plum-trees along the wall, and on looking more attentively I made out
that it was the top of Shock's straw head-piece with the lid gone, and
the hair sticking out in the most comical way.
I watched him intently, fully expecting to see another great clod of
earth come over, and wishing I had something to throw back at him; but I
had nothing but a flower-pot with a geranium in it, and the shells upon
the chimney-piece, and they were Mrs Beeton's, and I didn't like to
take them.
The head came a little higher till the whole of the straw bonnet crown
was visible, and I could just make out the boy's eyes.
Of course he was watching me, and I sat and watched him, feeling that he
must have turned one of the trained plum-trees into a ladder, and
climbed up; and I found myself wondering whether he had knocked off any
of the young fruit.
Then, as he remained perfectly still, watching me, I began to wonder why
he should be so fond of taking every opportunity he could find to stare
at me; and then I wondered what old Brownsmith would say to him, or do,
if he came slowly up behind him and caught him climbing up his
beautifully trained trees.
Just then I heard a loud cough that I knew was old Brownsmith's, for I
had heard it dozens of times, and Shock's head disappeared as if by
magic.
I jumped up to see, for I felt sure that Shock was going to catch it,
and then I saw that old Brownsmith was not in his garden, but in the
lane on our side, and that he was close beneath the window looking up at
me.
He nodded, and I had just made up my mind that I would not complain
about Shock, when there was a loud thump of the knocker, and directly
after I heard the door open, a heavy step in the passage, the door
closed, and then the sound of old Brownsmith wiping his shoes on the big
mat.
His shoes could not have wanted wiping, for it was a very dry day, but
he kept on rub--rub--rub, till Mrs Beeton, who waited upon us as well
as let us her apartments, came upstairs, knocked at my mother's door,
and went down again.
Then there was old Brownsmith's heavy foot on the stair, and he was
shown in to where I was waiting.
"Mrs Dennison will be here directly," said our landlady, and the old
man smiled pleasantly at me.
I say old man, for he was in my eyes a very old man, though I don't
suppose he was far beyond fifty; but he was very grey, and grey hairs in
those days meant to me age.
"How do?" he said as soon as he saw me. "Being such a nigh neighbour I
thought I'd come and pay my respects."
He had a basket in his hand, and just then my mother entered, and he
turned and began backing before her on to me.
"Like taking a liberty," he said in his rough way, "but your son and
me's old friends, ma'am, and I've brought you a few strawberries before
they're over."
Before my mother could thank him he went on:
"Been no rain, you see, and the sun's ripening of 'em off so fast. A
few flowers, too, not so good as they should be, ma'am, but he said you
liked flowers."
I saw the tears stand in my mother's eyes as she thanked him warmly for
his consideration, and begged him to sit down.
But no. He was too busy. Lot of people getting ready for market and he
was wanted at home, he said, but he thought he would bring those few
strawberries and flowers.
"I told him, you know, how welcome you'd be," he continued. "Garden's
always open to you, ma'am. Come often. Him too."
He was at the door as he said this, and nodding and bowing he backed
out, while I followed him downstairs to open the door.
"Look here," he said, offending me directly by catching hold of one end
of my neckerchief, "you bring her over, and look here," he went on in a
severe whisper, "you be a good boy to her, and try all you can to make
her happy. Do you hear?"
"_Yes_, sir," I said. "I do try."
"That's right. Don't you worry her, because--because it's my opinion
that she couldn't bear it, and boys are such fellows. Now you mind."
"Yes, sir," I said, "I'll mind;" and he went away, while, when I
returned to the room where my mother was holding the flowers to her
face, and seeming as if their beauty and sweetness were almost more than
she could bear, I glanced towards the window, and there once more, with
his head just above the wall, and peering through the thick bristling
twigs, was that boy Shock, watching our window till old Brownsmith
reached his gate.
Hardly a week had passed before the old man got hold of me as I was
going by his gate, taking me as usual by the end of my tie and leading
me down the garden to cut some more flowers.
"You haven't brought her yet," he said. "Look here, if you don't bring
her I shall think you are too proud."
"He shall not think that," my mother said; and for the next week or two
she went across for a short time every day, while I walked beside her,
for her to lean upon my shoulder, and to carry the folding seat so that
she might sit down from time to time.
Upon these occasions I never saw Shock, and old Brownsmith never came
near us. It was as if he wanted us to have the garden to ourselves for
these walks, and to a great extent we did.
Of course I used to notice how often I had to spread out that chair for
her to sit down under the shady trees; but I thought very little more of
it. She was weak. Well, I knew that; but some people were weak, I
said, and some were strong, and she would be better when it was not so
hot.