Brownsmith's Boy Part 55

"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. .h.i.t 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 gra.s.s 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 a.s.sailant.

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: