Brownsmith's Boy Part 47

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 pa.s.sed on over the red-tiled floor to a door which opened at once into the largest and most s.p.a.cious 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 gla.s.s, 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.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

MASTER PHILIP.

"What! I caught you then, did I?" cried a sharp unpleasant voice.

"Just dropped upon you, did I, my fine fellow? You scoundrel, how dare you steal our peaches!"

The speaker was a boy of somewhere about my own age, and as I faced him I saw that he was thin, and had black hair, a yellowish skin, and dark eyes. He was showing his rather irregular teeth in a sneering smile that made his hooked nose seem to hang over his mouth, while his high-pitched, harsh, girlish voice rang and buzzed in my ears in a discordant way.

I did not answer; I felt as if I could not speak. All I wanted to do was to fly at him and strike out wildly, while something seemed to hold me back as he stood vapouring before me, swishing about the thin, black, silver-handled cane he carried, and at every swish he cut some leaf or twig.

"How dare you strike me?" I cried at last furiously, and I advanced with my teeth set and my lists clenched, forgetting my position there, and not even troubling myself in my hot pa.s.sion to wonder who or what this boy might be.

"How dare I, you ugly-looking dog!" he cried, retreating before me a step or two. "I'll soon let you know that. Who are you, you thief?"

"I'm not a thief," I shouted, wincing still with the pain.

"Yes, you are," he cried. "How did you get in here? I've caught you, though, and we shall know now where our fruit goes when we get the blame. Here, out you come."

The boy caught me by the collar, and I seized him by the arms with a fierce, vindictive feeling coming over me; but he was very light and active, and, wresting himself partly free, he gave the cane a swing in the air, raised it above his head, and struck at me with all his might.

I hardly know how it all occurred in the hurry and excitement, but I know that I gave myself a wrench round, driving him back as I did so, and making a grasp at the cane with the full intention of getting it from him and thrashing him as hard as I could in return for his blow.

He missed his aim: I missed mine. My hand did not go near the cane; the cane did not come down as he intended upon my back, but with a fierce swish struck the branch of one of the peaches, breaking it so that it hung by the bark and a few fibres, while three or four of the ripe fruit fell with heavy thuds upon the ground.

"There, now you've done it, you young rough!" he cried viciously. "Come out."

His dark eyes glowed, and he showed his white teeth as he struck at me again and again; but I avoided the blows as I wrestled with him, and at last my st.u.r.dy strength, helped by the work I had had in Old Brownsmith's garden, told, and I got hold of the cane, forced open his hand, and wrested it away.

I remember very well the triumphant feeling that came over me as I raised the cane and was in the act of bringing it down with all my might, when there was a strong hand from behind upon my shoulder, and another caught my arm, ran down it to the wrist and hand, wrested the cane away, and swung me round.

It was Mr Solomon, looking very red in the face, and frowning at me severely.

"What are you doing?" he cried. "Do you know who that is?"

"He struck me with the cane."

"He was stealing peaches."

"I was not; I was picking one up."

"He was stealing them. Just look what he has done."

"I did not do it, Mr Solomon," I cried. "It was he."

"Oh, what a cracker, Brownie! I came and caught him at it; and because I said he was a thief he hit at me with that cane."

"How did he get the cane? Why, it's yours," said Mr Solomon; "and I believe you broke that young peach."

"Get out! It was he. Take him to the police. I caught him at it."

Mr Solomon stooped and picked up the bruised and fallen peaches, laid them on a shelf, and then took out his knife and cut away the broken bough neatly.

Then he stood and looked at it for a moment, and the sight of the damage roused up a feeling of anger in him, for he turned sharply.

"Here, you be off!" he said, advancing on the boy with the cane under his arm.

For answer the boy s.n.a.t.c.hed the cane away. "What do you say?" he cried haughtily.

"I say you be off out of my gla.s.s-houses, Master Philip. I won't have you here, and so I tell you."

"How dare you talk to me like that?" cried the boy.

"Dare! I'll dare a deal more than that, young fellow, if you are not off," cried Mr Solomon, who was a great deal more excited and animated than I should have imagined possible. "I'm not going to have my fruit spoiled like this."

"Your fruit indeed! I like that," cried the boy. "Yours?"

"See what you've done to my Royal George!"

"See what I've done to your Royal George!"--mockingly.

"Now be off," cried Mr Solomon. "Serves me right for not keeping the houses locked up. Now, then, you be off out."

"Sha'n't," said the boy. "I shall stop here as long as I like. You touch me if you dare. If you do I'll tell papa."