Brownsmith's Boy Part 45

The idea was too childish, but it kept coming again and again all through that dismal journey.

All at once, after an hour's drive, I caught sight of a great white house among some trees, and as we pa.s.sed it Mr Solomon slowly turned round to me and gave his head a jerk, which nearly shook off his hat.

Then he poked it back straight with the handle of his whip, and I wondered what he meant; but realised directly after that he wished to draw my attention to that house as being probably the one to which we were bound, for a few minutes later, after driving for some distance by a high blank wall, he stuck the whip behind him, and the horse stopped of its own accord with its nose close to some great closed gates.

On either side of these was a brick pillar, with what looked like an enormous stone egg in an egg-cup on the top, while on the right-hand pillar there was painted a square white patch, in the centre of which was a black k.n.o.b looking out of it like an eye.

I quite started, so wrapped was I in thought, when Mr Solomon spoke for the first time in a sharp decided way.

"Pop out and pull that bell," he said, looking at it as if he wondered whether it would ring without being touched.

I hurriedly got down and pulled the k.n.o.b, feeling ashamed the next moment for my act seemed to have awakened the sleepy place. There was a tremendous jangling of a great angry-voiced bell which sounded hollow and echoing all over the place; there was the rattling of chains, as half a dozen dogs seemed to have rushed out of their kennels, and they began baying furiously, with the result that the horse threw up his head and uttered a loud neigh. Then there was a trampling, as of some one in very heavy nailed boots over a paved yard, and after the rattling of bolts, the clang of a great iron bar, and the sharp click of a big lock, a sour-looking man drew back first one gate and then the other, each fold uttering a dissatisfied creak as if disliking to be disturbed.

The horse wanted no driving, but walked right into the yard and across to a large open shed, while five dogs--there were not six--barked and bayed at me, tugging at their chains. There was a large Newfoundland-- this was before the days of Saint Bernards--a couple of spotted coach-dogs, a great hound of some kind with shortly cropped ears, and looking like a terrier grown out of knowledge, and a curly black retriever, each of which had a great green kennel, and they tugged so furiously at their chains that it seemed as if they would drag their houses across the yard in an attack upon the stranger.

"Get out!" shouted Mr Solomon as the sour-looking man closed and fastened the doors; but the dogs barked the more furiously. "Here, come along," said Mr Solomon to me, and he took me up to the great furious-looking hound on whose neck, as I approached, I could see a bra.s.s collar studded with spikes, while as we closed up, his white teeth glistened, and I could see right into his great red mouth with its black gums.

"Hi, Nero!" cried Mr Solomon, as I began to feel extremely nervous.

"Steady, boy. This is Grant. Now, Grant, make friends."

There was a tremendous chorus of barks here, just as if Nero was out of patience, and the other four dogs were savage because he was going to be fed with the new boy before them; but as Mr Solomon laid his hand on the great fierce-looking beast's head it ceased barking, and the others stopped as well.

"He won't hurt you now," said Mr Solomon. "Come close."

I did not like the task, for I was doubtful of the gardener's knowledge, but I did go close up, and the great dog began to smell me from my toes upwards, and subsided into a low growl that sounded like disappointment that he was not to eat me.

"Pat him now," said Mr Solomon.

I obeyed rather nervously, and the great dog threw up his head and began striking at me with one great paw, which I found meant that it was to be taken, and I gave it a friendly shake.

Hereupon there was a chorus of short sharp whining barks and snaps from the other dogs, all of which began to strain at their chains with renewed vigour.

"Go and pat 'em all," said Mr Solomon; "they'll make friends now."

I went to the great s.h.a.ggy Newfoundland, who smelt me, and then threw himself up on his hind legs, and hanging against his chain put out his tongue in the most rollicking fashion, and offered me both his hands--I mean paws--in token of friendship. Then the retriever literally danced, and yelped, and jumped over his chain, favouring me with a lick or two on the hand, while the two spotted coach-dogs cowered down, licked my boots, and yelped as I patted them in turn.

Only so many dogs, who barked again as I left them, but it seemed to do me good, and I felt better and readier to help Mr Solomon when he called me to aid in unharnessing the horse, which trotted of its own free-will into its stable, while we ran the cart back into the shed, and lifted my box out on to the stones.

"That'll be all right till we fetch it," said Mr Solomon in his quiet dry way, and he led the way into the stable, where, as I was thinking how hard and unfriendly he seemed, he went up to the horse, patted it kindly, and ended by going to a bin, filling a large measure with oats; and taking them to the horse, which gave a snort of satisfaction as they were turned into its manger.

"Shall I get a pail of water for him, sir?" I said.

He looked at me and nodded, and I went out to a great pump in the middle of the yard with a hook on its spout, upon which I was able to hang the stable pail as I worked hard to throw the long handle up and down.

"Wages!" said Mr Solomon, taking the pail from me and holding it for the horse to drink.

For the moment I felt confused, not knowing whether he meant that as a question about what wages I required, but he turned his back, and by degrees I found that he meant that the corn and water were the horse's wages.

He busied himself about the horse for some minutes in a quiet punctilious way, for the sour-looking man had gone, and as I waited about, the great yard seemed with its big wall and gates, and dog-kennels, such a cold cheerless place that the trees had all turned the shabby parts of their backs to it and were looking the other way.

Everything was very prim and clean and freshly painted, and only in one place could I see some short gra.s.s peeping between the stones. There was a patch of moss, too, like a dark green velvet pin-cushion on the top of the little penthouse where the big bell lived on the end of a great curly spring, otherwise everything was carefully painted, and the row of stabling buildings with rooms over looked like prisons for horses and their warders, who must, I felt, live very unhappy lives.

There was one door up in a corner of the great yard, right in the wall, and down towards this, from where it had grown on the other side, there hung a few strands of ivy in a very untidy fashion, and it struck me that this ivy did not belong to the yard, or else it would have been clipped or cut away.

In summer, with the warm glow of the setting sun in the sky, the place looked shivery and depressing, and as I waited for Mr Solomon I found myself thinking what a place it must be in the winter when the snow had fallen and drifted into the corners, and how miserable the poor dogs must be.

Then as I stood looking at my box and wondering what Shock was doing, and whether he had gone to his home or was sleeping in the loft, and why Ike was so surly to me, and what a miserable piece of business it was that I should have to leave that pleasant old garden and Old Brownsmith, I suddenly felt a hand laid upon my shoulder.

I started and stared as I saw Mr Solomon's cold, stern face.

"Come along," he said; and he led the way to that door in the corner that seemed to me as if it led into an inner prison.

I shivered and felt depressed and cold as we went towards the door, and, to make matters worse, the dogs rattled their chains and howled in chorus as if, having made friends, they were very sorry for me. The big hound, Nero, seemed the most sorrowful of all, and putting his head as high as he could reach he uttered a deep hollow howl, that to my excited fancy sounded like "Poooooor boooooy!" just as Mr Solomon, with a face as stern as an executioner's might have been as he led someone to the Tower block, threw open the great door in the wall and said shortly:

"Go on!"

I went on before him, pa.s.sed through in a wretched, despairing way, wishing I had been a boy like Shock, who was not ashamed to run away, and then, as I took a few steps forward, I uttered a loud "Oh!"

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

I LOOK ROUND.

My e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n made Mr Solomon look completely changed, for, as I glanced back at him, I could see that there was a twinkle in his eyes and a little dent or two about the corners of his lips, but as he saw me looking wonderingly at him he became cold and stern of aspect again.

"Well," he said shortly, "will that do?"

"Do, sir!" I cried excitedly; "is this your garden?"

"Master's," he said, shortly.

"Your master's garden?"

"And your master's, too," he said. "Well, will it do?"

"Do!" I cried; "it's lovely. I never saw such a beautiful garden in my life. What a lawn! what paths! what flowers!"

"What a lot o' work, eh? What a lot to do?"

"Yes," I said; "but what a place!"

After that cold cheerless yard I seemed to have stepped into a perfect paradise of flowers and ornamental evergreens. A lawn like green velvet led up to a vast, closely-clipped yew hedge, and down to a glistening pool, full of great broad lily leaves, and with the silver cups floating on the golden surface, for the water reflected the tints in the skies.

Here and there were grey-looking statues in nooks among the evergreens, and the great beauty of all to me was that there was no regularity about the place; it was all up and down, and fresh beauties struck the eye at every glance. Paths wandered here and there, great clumps of ornamental trees hid other clumps, and patches of soft velvet turf were everywhere showing up beds in which were ma.s.ses of flowers of every hue. There were cedars, too, that seemed to be laying their great broad boughs upon the gra.s.s in utter weariness--they were so heavy and thick; slopes that were ma.s.ses of rhododendrons, and when I had feasted my eyes for a time on one part Mr Solomon led me on in his serious way to another, where fresh points of beauty struck the eye.

"It's lovely," I cried. "Oh! Mr Solomon, what a garden!"

"Mr Brownsmith, not Mr Solomon," he said rather gruffly; and I apologised and remembered; but I must go on calling him Mr Solomon to distinguish him from my older friend.

"I never saw such a place," I added; "and it's kept so well."