"Don't matter. Come to learn glass. There's the houses; go and look
round. I'll call you when supper's ready."
I don't know whether I felt in good spirits or bad; but soon ceased to
think of everything but what I was seeing, as, being about to become a
glass boy, I entered one of the great hothouses belonging to the large
range of glass buildings.
A warm sweet-scented puff of air saluted me as I raised the copper latch
of the door, and found myself in a great red-tiled vinery, with long
canes trained from the rich soil at the roots straight up to the very
ridge, while, with wonderful regularity, large bunches like inverted
cones of great black grapes hung suspended from the tied-in twigs.
There were rows of black iron pipes along the sides from which rose a
soft heat, and the effect of this was visible in the rich juicy-looking
berries covered with a pearly bloom, while from succulent shoot, leaf,
and tendril rose the delicious scent that had saluted me as soon as I
entered the place.
From this glass palace of a house, as it seemed to me, I went down into
a far hotter place, where the walls were whitewashed and the glass roof
very low. There was a peculiar odour of tan here, and as I closed the
door after me the atmosphere felt hot and steamy.
But the sight that greeted my eyes made me forget all other sensations,
for there all along the centre were what seemed to be beautiful,
luxuriant aloes; and as I thought of the old story that they bloomed
only once in a hundred years, I began to wonder how long it was since
one of these spiky-leaved plants had blossomed, and then I cried
excitedly:
"Pine-apples!"
True enough they were, for I had entered a large pinery where fruits
were ripening and others coming on in the most beautiful manner, while
what struck me most was the perfection and neatness of all the place.
Then I found myself in another grape-house where the vines bore oval
white grapes, with a label to tell that they were Muscats. Then I went
on into a long low house full of figs--small dumpy fig-trees in pots,
with a peculiar odour rising from them through the hot moist air.
Again I was in a long low place something like the pinery, and here I
was amongst melons--large netted-skinned melons of all sizes, some being
quite huge, and apparently ready to cut.
I could have stayed in these various houses for hours, but I was anxious
to see all I could, and I passed on over the red-tiled floor to a door
which opened at once into the largest and most spacious house I had
seen.
Here the air was comparatively cool, and there was quite a soft breeze
from the open windows as I walked along between little trees that formed
a complete grove, with cross paths and side walks, and every long leaf
looking dark and clear and healthy.
I could not keep back an exclamation of delight as I stopped in one of
the paths of this beautiful little grove; for all about me the trees
were laden with fruit in a way that set me thinking of the garden
traversed by Aladdin when in search of the wonderful lamp.
I was in no magic cave, it is true, but I was in a sort of crystal
palace of great extent, with here and there beautiful creepers running
along rods up the sides and across close to the roof, while my trees
were not laden with what looked like bits of coloured glass, but the
loveliest of fruit, some smooth and of rich, deep, fiery crimson; others
yellowish or with russet gold on their smooth skins, while others again
were larger and covered with a fine down, upon which lay a rich soft
carmine flush.
I had seen peaches and nectarines growing before, trained up against
walls; but here they were studded about beautiful little unsupported
trees, and their numbers and the novelty of the sight were to me
delightful.
I began to understand now why Old Brownsmith had arranged with his
brother for me to come; and, full of visions of the future and of how I
was going to learn how to grow fruit in this perfection, I stopped,
gazing here and there at the ripe and ripening peaches, that looked so
beautiful that I thought it would be a sin for them to be picked.
In fact, I had been so long amongst fruit that, though I liked it, I
found so much pleasure in its production that I rarely thought of eating
any, and though this sounds a strange thing for a boy to say, it is none
the less perfectly true. In fact, as a rule, gardeners rather grudge
themselves a taste of their own delicacies.
I must have been in this house a full quarter of an hour, and had only
seen one end, and I had turned into a cross walk of red tiles looking to
right and left, when, just beyond the stem of one peach-tree whose fruit
was ripening and had ripened fast, I saw just as it had fallen one great
juicy peach with a bruise on its side, and a crack through which its
delicious essence was escaping. Pale creamy was the downy skin, with a
bloom of softest crimson on the side beyond the bruise and crack, and
making a soft hissing noise as I drew in my breath--a noise that I meant
to express, "Oh, what a pity!"--I stooped down and reached over to pick
up the damaged fruit, and to lay it upon one of the open shelves where I
had seen a couple more already placed.
I heard no step, had seen no one in the place, but just as I leaned over
to get the fruit there was a swishing sound as of something parting the
air with great swiftness, and I uttered a cry of pain, for I felt a
sensation as if a sharp knife had suddenly fallen upon my back, and that
knife was red hot, and, after it had divided it, had seared the flesh.
I had taken the peach in my hand when the pain made me involuntarily
crush it before it fell from my fingers upon the rich earth; and,
grinding my teeth with rage and agony, I started round to face whoever
it was that had struck me so cruel a blow.