"So you haven't made friends with Shock?"
"No, sir."
"Well, don't."
"I will not if you don't wish it, sir," I said eagerly.
"Be kind to him, and keep him in his place. Hasn't been rough to you,
has he?"
"Oh no!" I said. "He only seems disposed to play tricks."
"Yes, like a monkey. Rum fellow, isn't he?"
"Yes, sir. He isn't--"
"Bit of an idiot, eh? Oh no! he's sharp enough. I let him do as he
likes for the present. Awkward boy to manage."
"Is he, sir?"
"Yes, my lad. Ike found him under the horses' hoofs one night, going up
to market. Little fellow had crawled out into the road. Left in the
ditch by some one or another. Ike put him in a half-sieve basket with
some hay, and fixed him in with some sticks same as we cover fruit, and
he curled up and went to sleep till Ike brought him in to me in the
yard."
"But where were his father and mother?" I cried.
"Who knows!" said Old Brownsmith, poking at a bit of brown crust in his
basin of milk. "Ike brought him to me grinning, and he said, `Here's
another cat for you, master.'
"I was very angry," said the old gentleman after a pause; "but just then
the little fellow--he was about a year old--put his head up through the
wooden bars and looked at me, and I told one of the women to give him
something to eat. After that I sent him to the workhouse, where they
took care of him, and one day when he got bigger I gave him a treat, and
had him here for a day's holiday. Then after a twelvemonth, I gave him
another holiday, and I should have given him two a year, only he was
such a young rascal. The workhouse master said he could do nothing with
him. He couldn't make him learn anything--even his letters. The only
thing he would do well was work in the garden."
"Same as he does now, sir?" I said, for I was deeply interested.
"Same as he does now," assented Old Brownsmith. "Then one day after I
had given him his treat, I suppose when he was about ten years old, I
found him in the garden. He had run away from the workhouse school."
"And did he stay here, sir?"
"No, I sent him back, Grant, and he ran away again. I sent him back
once more, but he came back; and at last I got to be tired of it, for
the more I sent him back the more he came."
The old gentleman chuckled and finished his bread and milk, while I
waited to hear more.
"I say I got tired of it at last, for I knew they flogged and locked up
the boy, and kept him on bread and water; but it did him no good; he
would run away. He used to come here, through the gate if it was open,
over the wall when it was shut, and he never said a word, only hung
about like a dog.
"I talked to him, coaxed him, and told him that if he would be a good
lad, and learn, I would have him to work some day, and he stared at me
just as if he were some dumb animal, and when I had done and sent him
off, what do you think happened, Grant?"
"He came back again, sir."
"Yes: came back again as soon as he could get away, and at last, being a
very foolish sort of old man, I let him stop, and he has been here ever
since."
"And never goes to school?"
"Never, Grant, I tried to send him, but I could only get him there by
blows, and I gave that up. I don't like beating boys."
I felt a curious shiver run through me as he said this, and I saw him
smile, but he made no allusion to me, and went on talking about Shock.
"Then I tried making a decent boy of him, giving him clothes, had a bed
put for him in the attic, and his meals provided for him here in the
kitchen."
"And wasn't he glad?" I said.
"Perhaps he was," said Old Brownsmith, quietly, "but he didn't show it,
for I couldn't get him to sleep in the bed, and he would not sit down to
his meals in the kitchen; so at last I grew tired, and took to paying
him wages, and made arrangements for one of the women who comes to work,
to find him a lodging, and he goes there to sleep sometimes."
I noticed that he said _sometimes_, in a peculiar manner, looking at me
the while. Then he went on:
"I've tried several times since, Grant, my lad, but the young savage is
apparently irreclaimable. Perhaps when he gets older something may be
done."
"I hope so," I said. "It seems so dreadful to see a boy so--"
"So dirty and lost, as the north-country people call it, boy. Ah, well,
let him have his way for a bit, and we'll see by and by! You say he has
not annoyed you?"
"No, no," I said; "I don't think he likes me though."
"That does not matter," said the old gentleman, rising. "There, now,
I'm going to shave."
I looked at him in wonder, as he took a tin pot from out of a cupboard,
and brought forth his razors, soap, and brush.
"Give me that looking-glass that hangs on the wall, my lad; that's it."
I fetched the glass from the nail on which it hung, and then he set it
upright, propped by a little support behind, and then I sat still as he
placed his razor in boiling water, soaped his chin all round, and
scraped it well, removing the grey stubble, and leaving it perfectly
clean.
It seemed to me a curious thing to do on a breakfast-table, but it was
the old man's custom, and it was not likely that he would change his
habits for me.
"There," he said smiling, "that's a job you won't want to do just yet
awhile. Now hang up the glass, and you can go out in the garden. I
shall be there by and by. Head hurt you?"
"Oh no, sir!" I said.
"Shoulder?"
"Only a little stiff, sir."
Then I don't think we need have the doctor any more.