Taking a scrap of paper from his pocket, Shock opened it, and I saw what
it contained. Then taking a monstrous pin from out of the edge of his
jacket, he picked up one of the snails with his left hand, used the pin
cleverly, and dragged out one of the creatures from its shell, reduced
to about half its original size, blew it, dipped it in the paper of
salt, and, to my horror and disgust, ate it.
Before I had recovered from my surprise he had eaten another and
another, and he was busy over the sixth when an ejaculation I uttered
made him turn and see me.
He stared at me, pin in one hand, snail-shell in the other, for a moment
in mute astonishment; then, turning more away from me, he went on with
his repast, and began insultingly to throw the shells at me over his
head.
I bore it all for a few minutes in silence; then, feeling qualmish at
the half-savage boy's meal, I caught one of the shells as it came, and
tossed it back with such good aim that it hit him a smart rap on the
head.
He turned sharply round with a vicious look, and seemed as if about to
fly at me.
"What are you doing?" I cried.
He had never spoken to me before, and he seemed to hesitate now, staring
at me as if reluctant to use his tongue, but he did speak in a quick
angry way.
"Eatin'; can't you see?"
I had questioned him, but I was quite as much surprised at hearing an
answer, as at the repast of which he was partaking.
I stared hard at him, and he gave me a sidelong look, after which he
gave three or four of the snails a thrust with a bit of stick to where
they would cook better, took up another, and wriggled it out with the
pin.
I was disgusted and half nauseated, but I could not help noticing that
the cooked snail did not smell badly, and that instead of being the wet,
foaming, slimy thing I was accustomed to see, it looked dried up and
firm.
At last, with a horrified look at the young savage, I exclaimed:
"Do you know those are snails?"
"Yes. Have one?"
He answered quite sharply, and I took a step back, for I had not had my
breakfast. I was rather disposed to be faint from the effects of my
last night's accident, and the sight of what was going on made me ready
to flee, for all at once, after letting his dirty fingers hover for a
few moments over the hot stone, he picked up the largest snail, blew it
as he threw it from hand to hand because it was hot, and ended by
holding it out to me with:
"Got a big pin?"
I shrank away from him with my lip curling, and I uttered a peculiar
"Ugh!"
"All right!" he said gruffly. "They're stunning."
To prove his assertion he went on eating rapidly without paying any
further heed to me, throwing the shells over his head, and ending by
screwing the paper up tightly that contained the salt.
Then he sprang up and faced me; took two or three steps in my direction,
and made a spring as if to jump right on to me.
Naturally enough I gave way, and he darted out of the shed and dashed
down between two rows of trees, to be out of sight directly, for I did
not give chase.
"He can talk," I said to myself as I went on down the garden thinking of
the snails, and that Shock was something like the wild boy of whom I had
once read.
But soon the various objects in the great garden made me forget Shock,
for the men were at work, hoeing, digging, and planting, and I was
beginning to feel uncomfortable and to think that Old Brownsmith would
be annoyed if he found me idle, when he came down one of the walks,
followed by his cats, and laid his hand upon my shoulder.
"Better?" he said abruptly. "That's right. What you're to do? Oh wait
a bit, we'll see! Get used to the place first."
He gave me a short nod, and began pointing out different tasks that he
wished his men to carry out, while I watched attentively, feeling as if
I should like to run off and look at the ripening fruit, but not caring
to go away, for fear Mr Brownsmith might want me.
One thing was quite evident, and that was that the cats were disposed to
be very friendly. They did not take any notice of the men, but one
after the other came and had a rub up against my leg, purring softly,
and looking up at me with their slits of eyes closed up in the bright
sunshine, till all at once Old Brownsmith laid his hand upon my shoulder
again, and said one word:
"Breakfast!"
I walked with him up to the house, and noticed that instead of following
us in, the cats ran up a flight of steps into a narrow loft which seemed
to be their home, two of them seating themselves at once in the doorway
to blink at the sunshine.
"Like cats?" said the old gentleman.
"Oh yes!" I said.
"Ah! I see you've made friends."
"Yes, I replied; but I haven't made friends with that boy Shock."
"Well, that does not matter," said Old Brownsmith. "Come, sit down;
bread and milk morning."
I sat down opposite to him, to find that a big basin of bread and milk
stood before each of us, and at which, after a short grace, Old
Brownsmith at once began.
I hesitated for a moment, feeling a little awkward and strange, but I
was soon after as busy as he.
"Not going to be ill, I see," he said suddenly. "You must be on the
look-out another time. Accident--Ike didn't mean it."