The next few days passed pleasantly enough, for I saw very little of the
two young gentlemen, who spent a good deal of their time in a meadow
beyond the garden, playing cricket and quarrelling. Once there seemed
to have been a fight, for I came upon Philip kneeling down by a
watering-pot busy with his handkerchief bathing his face, and the state
of the water told tales of what had happened to his nose.
As he seemed in trouble I was about to offer him my services, but he
turned upon me so viciously with, "Hullo! pauper, what do you want?"
that I went away.
The weather was lovely, and while it was so hot Mr Solomon used to do
the principal part of his work in the glass houses at early morn and in
the evening.
"Makes us work later, Grant," he used to say apologetically; "but as
it's for our own convenience we ought not to grumble."
"I'm not going to grumble, sir," I said laughing; "all that training and
tying in is so interesting, I like it."
"That's right," he said, patting me on the shoulder; "always try and
like your work; take a pride in it, my man, and it will turn up trumps
some time or another. It means taking prizes."
I had not seen Sir Francis yet, for he had been away, and I could not
help feeling a little nervous about our first meeting. Still I was
pretty happy there, and I felt that in spite of a few strong sensations
of longing to be back at the old garden with Ike and Shock, I was
getting to like my new life very much indeed, and that as soon as the
two boys had gone back to their school I should be as happy as could be.
I was gradually getting to like Mr Solomon, and Mrs Solomon grew more
kind to me every day. The men about the garden, too, were all very
civil to me, and beyond a little bit of good-humoured banter from them
now and then I had no cause for complaint.
My great fear was that they would catch up the name young Philip had
bestowed upon me. That they knew of it I had pretty good evidence, for
one day when I was busy over one of the verbena beds--busy at a task Mr
Solomon had set me after the sun had made the peach-house too hot, a big
bluff gardener came and worked close by me, mowing the grass in a shady
part under some trees.
"It's dry, and cuts like wire," he said, stopping to wipe his scythe and
give it a touch with the stone, making the blade ring and send forth
what always sounded to be pleasant music to me.
"Oughtn't you to cut it when the dew is on?" I said.
"Yes, squire, if you can," he replied; "but there is so much grass we
can't get over it all in the early morning."
He went on mowing, and I continued my task of pegging down the long
shoots of the beautiful scarlet, crimson, and white flowers, just as Mr
Solomon had instructed me, when all at once he came and looked on,
making me feel very nervous; but he nodded and went away, so I supposed
he was satisfied, and I worked on again as cheerfully as could be, till
all at once I felt the blood flush up in my face, for the voice of young
Philip Dalton came unpleasantly grating on my ear, as he said:
"Hullo, Bunce, mowing again?"
"Yes, Master Philup, mowin' again."
"Why, you've got the pauper there!" cried Philip. "I say, did you know
he was a pauper?"
"No," said Bunce, "I didn't know. Do you want your legs ampytated?"
"No, stoopid, of course I don't."
"Then get outer the way or I shall take 'em off like carrots."
"Get out!" said Philip, as I saw that he was watching me. "I say,
though, did you know that he was a pauper, and lived on skilly?"
"No," said the gardener quietly; and I felt as if I must get up and go
away, for now I knew I should be a mark of contempt for the whole staff
who worked in the garden.
"He was," said Philip.
"Pauper, was he?" said Bunce, making his scythe glide round in a half
circle. "I shouldn't ha' thought it."
"Oh but he was or is, and always will be," said the boy maliciously.
"Once a pauper always a pauper. Look at him."
"I've been a looking at him," said Bunce slowly, for he was a big
meditative man, and he stood upright, took a piece of flannel from the
strap that supported his whetstone sheath, and wiped the blade of the
scythe.
"Well, can't you see?" cried my tormentor, watching me as I worked away
and assumed ignorance of his presence.
"No," said Bunce sturdily; "and seeing what a long, yellow,
lizardly-looking wisp you are, Master Phil, if you two changed clothing
I should pick you out as the pauper."
"How dare you!" cried the boy fiercely.
"Mind the scythe," shouted Bunce; "d'yer want to get cut?"
"You insolent old worm chopper, how dare you call me a pauper?"
"I didn't call you a pauper," said Bunce chuckling; "did I, Grant?"
"No," I said.
"You're a liar, you pauper!" cried the boy, who was furious. "I'll tell
papa--I'll tell Sir Francis, and you shall both be discharged, you
blackguards."
"I'm just going to mow there, squire," said Bunce, sharpening away at
his scythe.
"Then you'll wait till I choose to move."
"If you don't get out of the way I shall take the soles off your boots,"
said Bunce, putting back his rubber.
"I'll speak to papa about your insolence," cried the boy, with his eyes
flashing and his fists clenched; and I thought he was going to strike
Bunce.
"Well," said a sharp ringing voice, "speak to him then. What is it?"
I started to my feet, and Bunce touched his cap to a tall elderly
gentleman with closely-cut grey hair and a very fierce-looking white
moustache, whose keen eyes seemed to look me through and through.
"I said, what is it, Phil?" cried the newcomer, whom I felt to be Sir
Francis before Philip spoke.
"This fellow called me a pauper, pa!"
Sir Francis turned sharply on Bunce, who did not seem in the slightest
degree alarmed.
"How dare you call my son a pauper, sir?" he said sternly.
"I--"
"Stop!" cried Sir Francis. "Here, you boy, go away and wait till I call
you. Not far."
"Yes, sir," I said; and I walked away thinking what a fierce quick man
he seemed, and not knowing then that he was one of the magistrates.
A minute later he called to me to go back, and as soon as I had reached
him, with Philip by his side and Bunce before him, Philip stepped back
and held up his fist at me menacingly.
He thought the movement was unobserved by his stepfather; but Sir
Francis, who was an old Indian officer, noted the act, as he showed us
directly after.
"Now, boy," he said, "what's your name?"
"Grant, Sir Francis."
"Well, Grant, did this under-gardener call Master Philip a pauper?"
I told him exactly what had occurred, and Sir Francis turned sharply on
his step-son.
"You were already self-condemned, Philip," he said sternly. "I saw you
threaten this boy with your fist. The way to win respect from those
beneath you in station is to treat them with respect."
"But, papa--"
"Hold your tongue, sir," said Sir Francis sternly.
"I had eight hundred men in my regiment, and all the band came from one
of the unions, and better fellows could not be found. My lad," he
continued, "I dare say you know that pauper only means poor. It is no
disgrace to be poor. Philip, go indoors."
"That's a flea in his ear," said Bunce chuckling, as Sir Francis went
one way, Philip the other. "What do you think of the master?"
"He seems very sharp and angry," I said, returning to my work.
"He's all that," said the man; "but he's a reg'lar gentleman. He always
drops on to them two if he catches 'em up to their larks. Nice boys
both of 'em."
That word _pauper_ rankled a good deal in my breast, for it was quite
evident to me that Sir Francis thought I was from one of the unions, and
I had had no opportunity of showing him that I was not.
"But I will show him," I said to myself angrily. "He sha'n't see
anything in me to make him believe it. It's too bad."
I was busy, as I said that, arranging a barrowful of plants in rows,
where they were to be surrounded with earth, "plunged," as we called it,
under the shelter of a wall, where they would get warmth and sunshine
and grow hardy and strong, ready for taking in to the shelter of the
greenhouse when the weather turned cold.
It was some days since I had seen Philip; but, weakly enough, I let the
memory of that word rankle still.
To carry out my task I had to fetch a pot at a time from the large wide
barrow, and set them down in the trench that had been cut for them.
This necessitated stooping, and as I was setting one down a lump of
something caught me so smartly on the back that I nearly dropped the
flower-pot and started upright, looking round for the thrower of the
piece of clay, for there it was at my feet.
I could not see, but I guessed at once that it was Philip, though it
might have been Courtenay hiding behind some gooseberry bushes or the
low hornbeam hedge, about twenty yards away.
"I won't take any notice of the ill-bred young cubs," I said to myself
angrily; and I stooped and arranged the pot in its place and went back
for another, when _whack_! came another well-aimed piece, and hit me on
the side of the cap.
"You--"
I stopped myself, as I banged down the pot in a rage--stopped words and
act, for I was going to run towards the spot whence the clay seemed to
have come.
"It's only play after all," I said to myself. "I'll show them, pauper
or no, that I'm above being annoyed by such a trifle as that."
I moved a couple more pots, when something whizzed by my ear, and then I
was hit on the shoulder by a little raw potato.
I wanted to run round to the back of the hornbeam hedge, which had been
planted to shelter plants and not sharpshooters, but I restrained
myself.
"Playing cricket makes them take such good aim," I thought to myself, as
a piece of clay hit me on the back again; and I worked hard to finish my
task so as to get to the pit from which I was fetching the pots down to
the grass walk where I was; and I had got to the last pot, when, in
stooping to put it in its place, _plop_ came a soft lump of clay on the
nape of my neck, and began to slip under my collar.
Down went the pot, and my cap on to the plant, and I turned sharp round,
certain now that the missiles had been sent, not from the shelter hedge
nor the gooseberry bushes, but from the wall, and there, sure enough,
with his head and shoulders above the top, was my assailant.
My angry look changed to a bland smile as I saw the ragged straw hat
with the hair standing out of the top, and the grubby face of Shock
looking at me with his eyes twinkling and the skin all round wrinkled,
while the rest of his face was sour.
"Why, Shock!" I cried; "who'd have thought of seeing you? How did you
get there?"
"Clum up."
"Did Mr Brownsmith send you?"
He shook his head.
"How is it you are here, then?"
"Hooked it."
"Why, you haven't run away?"
"I jest have, though."
"But you are going back?"
He shook his head with all his might.
"I've sin you lots o' times," he said.
"When?"
"Yes'day. Day afore, and day afore that."
"What! have you been here three days?" Shock nodded.
"Where have you slept, then?"
"Haystack."
"And what have you had to eat?"
"Bread. Lots o' things I fun' in the fields. Rabbud."
"Who's that boy?" said a sharp voice that well knew; and Shock's head
disappeared.
"Mr Ezra Brownsmith's boy, Sir Francis," I said. "He used to work with
me."
"Was he from the workhouse?"
"Yes, Sir Francis."
"Tell him not to do that again, and don't you encourage him. I don't
approve of it. Go on with your work."
I took the barrow handles and wheeled it away, biting my lips, for it
had suddenly struck me that Sir Francis thought that I was talking to a
boy who was my companion in the workhouse, and it seemed as if fate was
fixing the term pauper upon me so tightly that I should not be able to
get it removed.
Plenty of little annoyances occurred, but I put up with them; and not
the least was the appearance of Shock at the top of first one wall and
then another, but never near enough to speak to me.
He showed himself so often here and there that I used to go about the
garden feeling sure that he was watching me; and at last I found, to my
horror, that he had grown more bold, and used to get into the garden,
for one day I caught sight of him creeping on hands and knees among the
gooseberry bushes.
I started in pursuit, but stopped directly, feeling sure that if I did
so the act would result in trouble to us both, and determined to write
to Mr Ezra about him. I was glad I did so the next minute, for
Courtenay and Philip came down the garden to amuse themselves picking
gooseberries and eating them.
I was busy watering some celery that had been planted in trenches and
shaded from the hot sun.
To do this I had a barrel fitted on wheels in a sort of barrow. From
this I filled my can by dipping it, and when I had finished I had to go
down to the bottom of the garden to a good-sized pond and reverse the
process, dipping a bucket at some steps and filling the barrel.
I had filled my barrel once, and was busy dipping my can and thinking
about Shock and what would be the consequences if he were seen by the
two boys, when I suddenly found them by me, each with his cap full of
ripe gooseberries, which they were eating as they watched me; and after
giving his brother a look, Philip opened the annoyance by saying:
"Come, pauper, work away."