Brownsmith's Boy Part 16

"Hear that, master," cried Ike; "and that's a fact; so here's my hand, and here's my heart. Why, I'd be ashamed o' mysen to hurt a bit of a boy like you. It war an accident, lad, and that's honest. So now what's it to be--shake hands or leave it alone?"

"Shake hands," I said, lifting mine with difficulty. "I don't think you could have done such a cowardly thing."

I looked round sharply at Mr Brownsmith, for I felt as if I had said something that would offend him, since I was taking sides against him.

"Be careful, please," I added quickly; "my arm's very bad, and you'll hurt me."

"Careful!" cried Ike; "I'll shake it as easy as if it was a young shoot o' sea-kale, boy. There, hear him, master! Hear what this here boy says!"

He shook hands with me, I dare say thinking he was treating me very gently, but he hurt me very much. The grip of his hard brown hand alone was bad enough, but I bore it all as well as I could, and tried to smile in the rough fellow's face.

"That's the sort as I like," he said in a good-humoured growl. "Put that down on the slate. That's being a trump, that is; and we two's shipmates after this here."

Old Brownsmith did not speak, and Ike went on:

"I say, master, what a bad un you do think me! I'd ha' hated myself as long as I lived, and never forgive myself, if I'd done such a thing.

Look ye here--my monkey's up now, master--did yer ever know me ill-use the 'orses?"

"No, Ike," said Old Brownsmith shortly.

"Never once. There's the white, and I give it a crack now and then; but ask either Capen or Starlit, and see if ever they've got anything agen me. And here's a man as never ill-used a 'orse, and on'y kicked young Shock now and then when he'd been extry owdacious, and you say as I tried to upset the load on young un here. Why, master, I'm ashamed on yer. I wouldn't even ha' done it to you."

I felt sorry for Ike, and my sympathies were against Old Brownsmith, who seemed to be treating him rather hardly, especially when he said shortly:

"Did you fasten off that hind rope?"

"Yes, master, I did fasten off that hind rope," growled Ike.

"Then, now you're out o' breath with talking, go and get your sleep.

Don't start later than twelve."

Ike uttered a low grunt, and went off with his hands in his pockets, and Old Brownsmith came and laid his hand upon my shoulder.

"Pretty well bed-time, Grant, my boy. Let's go in."

I followed him in, feeling rather low-spirited, but when he had lit a candle he turned to me with a grim smile.

"Ike didn't like what I said to him, but it won't do him any harm."

I looked at him, wondering how he could treat it all so coolly, but he turned off the conversation to something else, and soon after he showed me my bedroom--a neat clean chamber at the back, and as I opened the window to look out at the moon I found that there was a vine growing up a thick trellis right up to and round it, the leaves regularly framing it in.

There was a comfortable-looking bed, and my box just at the foot, and I was so weary and low-spirited that I was not long before I was lying down on my left side, for I could not lie on my right on account of my shoulder being bad.

As I lay there I could look out on the moon shining among the vine leaves, and it seemed to me that I ought to get out and draw down the blind; but while I was still thinking about it I suppose I must have dropped asleep, for the next thing that seemed to occur was that I was looking at the window, and it was morning, and as I lay trying to think where I was I saw something move gently just outside.

At first I thought it was fancy, and that the soft morning light had deceived me, or that one of the vine leaves had been moved by the wind; but no, there was something moving just as Shock's head used to come among the young shoots of the plum-trees above the wall, and, sure enough, directly after there was that boy's head with his eyes above the sill, staring right in upon me as I lay in bed.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

SHOCK'S BREAKFAST.

I lay as if fascinated for a minute or two, staring, and he stared at me. Then without further hesitation I leaped out of bed and indignantly rushed to the window, but only on opening it to find him gone.

There was no mistake about it though, for the trellis was still quivering, and as I looked out it seemed to me that he must have dropped part of the way and darted round the house.

It was very early, but the sun was shining brightly over the dew-wet trees and plants, and a fresh, delicious scent came in at the open window. My headache and giddiness had gone, taking with them my low-spirited feeling, and dressing quickly I thought I would have a run round the garden and a look at Shock before Old Brownsmith came down.

"I wonder where Shock sleeps and lives," I said to myself as I walked round peering about the place, finding the cart gone, for I had not heard the opening gate, and crushing and b.u.mping of the wheels as it went out at midnight.

The great sheds and pits seemed to be empty, and as I went down one of the long paths the garden was quite deserted, the men and women not having come.

"They must be late," I thought, when I heard the old clock at Isleworth Church begin to strike, and listening I counted five.

It was an hour earlier than I thought for, and turning down a path to the left I walked towards a sort of toolshed right in the centre of the garden, and, to my surprise, saw that the little roughly-built chimney in one corner of the building was sending out a column of pale-blue smoke.

"I wonder who has lit a fire so early!" I said to myself, and walking slowly on I expected to see one of the garden women boiling her kettle and getting ready for her breakfast--some of the work-people I knew having their meals in the sheds.

I stopped short as I reached the door, for before a fire of wood and rubbish burnt down into embers, and sending out a pretty good heat, there knelt Shock; and as I had approached quietly he had not heard me.

I stared with wonder at him, and soon my wonder turned into disgust, for what he was doing seemed to be so cruel.

The fire was burning on a big slab of stone, and the embers being swept away from one part the boy had there about a score of large garden snails, which he was pushing on to the hot stone, where they hissed and sent out a lot of foam and steam. Then he changed them about with a bit of stick into hotter or cooler parts, and all with his back half-turned to me.

"The nasty, cruel brute!" I said to myself, for it seemed as if he were doing this out of wantonness, and I was blaming myself for not interfering to save the poor things from their painful death, when a thought flashed across my mind, and I stood there silently watching him.

I had not long to watch for proof.

Taking a sc.r.a.p 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 sh.e.l.l, 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 e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n I uttered made him turn and see me.

He stared at me, pin in one hand, snail-sh.e.l.l 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 sh.e.l.ls 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 sh.e.l.ls 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.