"I say, Court, we're not going to stand this, are we?"
"Go into the field and play, boys," said Mr Solomon coldly; "we've got
to work."
"Yes, paupers have to work," said Courtenay with a sneer.
"If I thought that worth notice, young fellow, I'd make you take that
word back," said Mr Solomon sternly.
"Yes, it's all right, Courtenay; the boy isn't a pauper."
"You said he was."
"Yes, but it was a mistake," sneered Philip; "he says he's a gentleman."
The two boys roared with laughter, and Mr Solomon looked red.
"Look here, Grant," he said quietly, "if being a gentleman is to be like
these two here, don't you be one, but keep to being a gardener."
"Ha, ha, ha!--ho, ho, ho!" they both laughed. "A gentleman! Pretty
sort of a gentleman."
"Pauper gentleman," cried Philip maliciously. "Yes, I daresay he has
got a title," said Courtenay, who looked viciously angry at being
thwarted; and he was the more enraged because Mr Solomon bent down and
helped me at the bed, taking no notice whatever of the orders for me to
go.
"Yes," said Philip; "he's a barrow-net--a wheelbarrow-net. Ha, ha, ha!"
"With a potato-fork for his crest."
"And ragged coat without any arms," said Philip.
"And his motto is `Oh the poor workhouse boy!'" cried Courtenay.
"There, that will do, Grant," said Mr Solomon. "Let these little boys
amuse themselves. It won't hurt us. Bring your basket."
"Yes, take him away, Browny," cried Philip.
"Ah, young fellows, your father will find out some day what nice boys
you are! Come along, Grant and let these young _gentlemen_ talk till
they're tired."
"Yes, go on," cried Philip; while I saw Courtenay turn yellow with rage
at the cold bitter words Mr Solomon used. "Take away your pauper--take
care of your gentleman--go and chain him up, and give him his skilly.
Go on! take him to his kennel. Oh, I say, Courtenay--a gentleman! What
a game!"
I followed Mr Solomon with my face wrinkled and lips tightened up, till
he turned round and looked at me and then clapped his hand on my
shoulder.
"Bah!" he said laughing; "you are not going to mind that, my lad. It
isn't worth a snap of the fingers. I wish, though, you hadn't said
anything about being a gentleman."
"So do I, sir," I said. "It slipped out, though, and I was sorry when
it was too late."
"Never mind; and don't you leave your work for them. Now come and have
a look at my cucumber house, and then--ha, ha, ha! there's something
better than skilly for dinner, my boy."
I found out that Mr Solomon had another nature beside the one that
seemed cold.