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"Yes," I said, "a little."
"Yes, _sir_, you beggar; how many more times am I to tell you! Come out in the field. You've got to bowl for us. Here, catch!"
He threw a cricket-ball he had in his hand at me with all his might, and in a nasty spiteful way, but I caught it, and in a jeering way Philip shouted:
"Well fielded. Here, come on, Court. We'll make the beggar run."
I hesitated, for I wanted to go on with my work, but these were my master's sons, and I felt that I ought to obey.
"What are you standing staring like that for, pauper?" cried Philip.
"Didn't you hear Mr Courtenay say you were to come on and bowl?"
"What do you want, young gentleman?" said a voice that was very welcome to me; and Mr Solomon came from behind the great laurels.
"What's that to you, Browny? He's coming to bowl for us in the field,"
said Courtenay.
"No, he is not," said Mr Solomon coolly. "He's coming to help me in the cuc.u.mber house."
"No, he isn't," said Philip; "he's coming to bowl for us. Come along, pauper."
I threw the ball towards him and it fell on the lawn, for neither of the boys tried to catch it.
"Here, you, sir," cried Courtenay furiously, "come and pick up this ball."
I glanced at Mr Solomon and did not stir.
"Do you hear, you, sir! come and pick up this ball," said Courtenay.
"Now, pauper, look alive," said Philip.
I turned and stooped down over my work.
"I say, Court, we're not going to stand this, are we?"
"Go into the field and play, boys," said Mr Solomon coldly; "we've got to work."
"Yes, paupers have to work," said Courtenay with a sneer.
"If I thought that worth notice, young fellow, I'd make you take that word back," said Mr Solomon sternly.
"Yes, it's all right, Courtenay; the boy isn't a pauper."
"You said he was."
"Yes, but it was a mistake," sneered Philip; "he says he's a gentleman."
The two boys roared with laughter, and Mr Solomon looked red.
"Look here, Grant," he said quietly, "if being a gentleman is to be like these two here, don't you be one, but keep to being a gardener."
"Ha, ha, ha!--ho, ho, ho!" they both laughed. "A gentleman! Pretty sort of a gentleman."
"Pauper gentleman," cried Philip maliciously. "Yes, I daresay he has got a t.i.tle," said Courtenay, who looked viciously angry at being thwarted; and he was the more enraged because Mr Solomon bent down and helped me at the bed, taking no notice whatever of the orders for me to go.
"Yes," said Philip; "he's a barrow-net--a wheelbarrow-net. Ha, ha, ha!"
"With a potato-fork for his crest."
"And ragged coat without any arms," said Philip.
"And his motto is 'Oh the poor workhouse boy!'" cried Courtenay.
"There, that will do, Grant," said Mr Solomon. "Let these little boys amuse themselves. It won't hurt us. Bring your basket."
"Yes, take him away, Browny," cried Philip.
"Ah, young fellows, your father will find out some day what nice boys you are! Come along, Grant and let these young _gentlemen_ talk till they're tired."
"Yes, go on," cried Philip; while I saw Courtenay turn yellow with rage at the cold bitter words Mr Solomon used. "Take away your pauper--take care of your gentleman--go and chain him up, and give him his skilly.
Go on! take him to his kennel. Oh, I say, Courtenay--a gentleman! What a game!"
I followed Mr Solomon with my face wrinkled and lips tightened up, till he turned round and looked at me and then clapped his hand on my shoulder.
"Bah!" he said laughing; "you are not going to mind that, my lad. It isn't worth a snap of the fingers. I wish, though, you hadn't said anything about being a gentleman."
"So do I, sir," I said. "It slipped out, though, and I was sorry when it was too late."
"Never mind; and don't you leave your work for them. Now come and have a look at my cuc.u.mber house, and then--ha, ha, ha! there's something better than skilly for dinner, my boy."
I found out that Mr Solomon had another nature beside the one that seemed cold.
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.
SIR FRANCIS AND A FRIEND.
The next few days pa.s.sed pleasantly enough, for I saw very little of the two young gentlemen, who spent a good deal of their time in a meadow beyond the garden, playing cricket and quarrelling. Once there seemed to have been a fight, for I came upon Philip kneeling down by a watering-pot busy with his handkerchief bathing his face, and the state of the water told tales of what had happened to his nose.
As he seemed in trouble I was about to offer him my services, but he turned upon me so viciously with, "Hullo! pauper, what do you want?"
that I went away.
The weather was lovely, and while it was so hot Mr Solomon used to do the princ.i.p.al part of his work in the gla.s.s houses at early morn and in the evening.
"Makes us work later, Grant," he used to say apologetically; "but as it's for our own convenience we ought not to grumble."
"I'm not going to grumble, sir," I said laughing; "all that training and tying in is so interesting, I like it."