Brownsmith's Boy Part 50

"You can use those drawers, and your box can go in the back room.

Good-night!"

She went away and shut the door, looking wonderfully clean and prim, but depressing instead of cheering me; and as soon as she was gone I uncorded my box, wondering whether I should be able to stay, and wis.h.i.+ng myself back at Isleworth.

I had taken out my clothes and had reached the bottom of my box, anxious to see whether the treasures I had there in a flat case, consisting of pinned-out moths and b.u.t.terflies, were all right and had not been shaken out of place by the jolting of the cart, when there was a sharp tap at the door and Mr Solomon came in.

"Hullo!" he said; "b.u.t.terflies and moths!--eh?"

He spoke quite angrily, as it seemed to me, and chilled me, as I felt that he would not like me to do such a thing as collect.

"Hah!" he said. "I used to do that when I was a boy. There's lots here; but don't go after them when you're at work."

"No, sir," I said.

"Thought I'd come up, my lad, as it's all strange to you. I haven't much to say to you, only keep away from those boys. Let 'em talk, but never you mind."

"I'll try, sir."

"That's right. Work to-morrow morning at six. You may begin sooner if you like. I often, do. Breakfast at eight; dinner at twelve; tea at five, and then work's supposed to be done. I generally go in the houses then. Always something wants doing there."

He stood thinking and looking as cold and hard as could be while I waited for him to speak again; but he did not for quite five minutes, during which time he stood picking up my comb and dropping it back into the hair-brush.

"Yes," he said suddenly, "I should go in for those late lettuces if I was Ezra. He'd find a good sale for them when salads were getting scarce. Celery's very good, but people don't like to be always tied down to celery and endives--a tough kind of meat at the best of times.

If you write home--no, this is home now--if you write to Brother Ezra, you say I hope he'll keep his word about the lettuces. Good-night!"

I felt puzzled as soon as he had gone, and had not the slightest idea how I felt towards the people with whom I was to pa.s.s months--perhaps years.

"I shall never like Mrs Solomon," I said to myself dolefully; "and I shall only like him half and half--liking him sometimes and not caring for him at others."

I was very tired, and soon after I was lying in the cool sweet sheets thinking about my new home, and watching the dimly-seen window; and then it seemed to be all light and to look over Old Brownsmith's garden, where Shock was pelting at me with pellets of clay thrown from the end of a switch. And all the time he came nearer and nearer till the pellets went right over my shoulder, and they grew bigger till they were peaches that he kept sticking on the end of the switch, and as he threw them they broke with a noise that was like the word _Push_!

I wanted to stop him, but I could not till he threw one peach with all his might, and the switch caught me across the back, and I retaliated by taking it away and thras.h.i.+ng him.

Then I woke with a start, and found I had been dreaming. I lay for a few minutes after that in the darkness thinking that I would learn all I could about fruit-growing as fast as possible, so as to know everything, and get back to Old Brownsmith; and then all at once I found myself sitting up in bed listening, with the sun s.h.i.+ning in at one side of my blind, while I was wondering where I was and how I had come there.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

I BEGIN WORK.

Boys like sleep in the morning, but the desire to cuddle up for a few minutes more and to go back to dreamland is not there on the first morning at a new home or at a fresh school.

On that particular morning I did not feel in the least sleepy, only uncomfortably nervous; and, hearing voices through the wall, I jumped up and dressed quickly, to find on going down that Mr Solomon was in the kitchen putting on his thick boots.

"Just coming to call you," he said, nodding. "Harpus five. Hah! change coming," he cried, stamping his feet in his boots; "rain--rain. Come along."

He unbolted the door and I followed him out, drawing a breath of the sweetly fragrant air as we stepped at once into the bright suns.h.i.+ne, where the flowers were blooming and the trees were putting forth their strength.

But I had no opportunity for looking about the garden, for Mr Solomon led the way at once to the stoke-holes down behind the gla.s.s-houses, rattled open the doors, and gave a stoke here with a great iron rod, and a poke there where the fires were caked together; while, without waiting to be asked, I seized upon the shovel I saw handy and threw on some c.o.ke.

"Far back as you can, my lad," said Mr Solomon. "Seems a rum time of year to be having fires; but we're obliged to keep up a little, specially on cloudy days."

This done, he led the way into one of the sunken pits where the melons were growing, and after reaching in among them and snipping off a runner or two he routed out a slug and killed it.

Then turning to me:

"First thing in gardening, Grant, is to look out for your enemies.

You'll never beat them; all you can do is to keep 'em down. Now look here," he said, picking off a melon leaf and holding it before me, "What's the matter with that?"

"I don't see much the matter," I said, "only that the leaf looks specked a little with yellow, as if it was unhealthy."

"Turn it over," he said.

I did, and looked at it well.

"There are a few red specks on it--very small ones," I said.

"Good eyes," he said approvingly. "That's what's the matter, my lad.

You've seen the greatest enemy we have under gla.s.s. Those red specks, so small that you can hardly see them, cover the lower parts of the leaves with tiny cobwebs and choke the growth while they suck all the goodness out, and make the yellow specks on the top by sucking all the sap from the leaves."

"What, those tiny specks!"

"Yes, those little specks would spoil all our melon plants if we did not destroy them--melons, cuc.u.mbers, vines, peaches, and nectarines-- anything almost under gla.s.s. But there's your gun and ammunition; load up and shoot 'em. Never give them any rest."

I looked at him wonderingly, for he was pointing at a syringe standing in a pail of soapy-looking water.

"Yes," he continued, "that's right--kill 'em when you can. If you leave them, and greenfly, and those sort of things, alone till to-morrow, by that time they're turned into great-grandfathers, and have got such a family of little ones about 'em that your leaves are ten times worse."

"But what are those red specks?" I said.

"Red spider, boy. Now I'll show you. This is my plan to keep my plants healthy: have a bucket of soap and water in every house, and a syringe in it. Then you take it up as soon as you see the mischief and kill it at once. It's all handy for you, same as it is to have a bit of matting hanging up on a nail, ready to tie up the stem that wants it. Somebody said, Grant, 'A st.i.tch in time saves nine,' it ought to have been, 'A washed leaf keeps off grief.' See here."

He took the syringe, filled it, and sent a fine shower beneath the leaves of the melons, where they were trained over a trellis, thoroughly was.h.i.+ng them all over.

"Now you try," he said, and taking off my jacket I syringed away vigorously, while with matting and knife he tied in some loose strands and cut off others, so as to leave the vines neat.

"That'll do for the present," he said; "but mind this, Grant, if ever you see an enemy, shoot him while he's a single man if you can. Wait till to-morrow, you'll have to shoot all his relations too."

He led the way out of the pit, and round by the grounds, where different men were at work mowing and sweeping, the short cut gra.s.s smelling delicious in the morning air. He spoke to first one and then another in a short business-like way, and then went on with me to one of the great conservatories up by the house.

"I might put you to that sort of work, Grant," he said, giving his head a backward jerk; "but that wants no brains. Work under gla.s.s does. You want to work with your hands and your head. Now we'll have a tidy up in here. Sir Francis likes plenty of bright flowers."

I should have liked to stop looking about as soon as we were in the large gla.s.s building, which was one ma.s.s of bloom; but following Mr Solomon's example I was soon busily snipping off dead flowers and leaves, so as to make the various plants tidy; and I was extremely busy in one corner over this when I suddenly found that Mr Solomon was watching me, and that a big bell was ringing somewhere.

"That's right," he said, nodding his head in a satisfied way. "That's what I want. You don't know much yet, but you will. If I was to set one of those men to do that he'd have knocked off half the buds, and-- what have you been doing there?"

"I tied up those two flower-stems," I said. "Wasn't it right, sir?"