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Brownsmith's Boy: A Romance in a Garden, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 9. Gathering Pippins |
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_ CHAPTER NINE. GATHERING PIPPINS I did not understand it at the time, but that accident made me a very excellent friend in the shape of Ike, the big ugly carter and packer, for after his fashion he took me regularly under his wing, and watched over me during the time I was at Old Brownsmith's. I'm obliged to stop again over that way of speaking of the market-gardener, but whenever I write "Mr Brownsmith," or "the old gentleman," it does not seem natural. Old Brownsmith it always was, and I should not have been surprised to have seen his letters come by the postman directed _Old Brownsmith_. Ike used to look quite pleasant when I was busy near him, and while he taught me all he knew, nothing pleased him better than for me to call him from his digging, or hoeing, or planting, to move a ladder, or lift a basket, or perform some other act that was beyond my strength. All the same, though, he had a way of not showing it. I had been at the garden about a week when Old Brownsmith began talking about picking some of his pippins to send to market. "I hear they are making a good price," he said, "and I shall try a few sieves to-morrow morning, Grant." "Yes, sir," I said, for the sound of apple-picking was pleasant. "I suppose if I were to send you up one of the apple trees with a basket, you would throw yourself out and break one of your limbs." "Oh no, sir!" I said. "I could climb one of the trees and pick the apples without doing that." "Thank you," he replied; "that's not the way to pick my apples. Why, don't you know that the fruit does not grow in the middle of a tree, but round the outside, where the sun and wind can get at the blossom?" "I didn't know it," I said rather ruefully. "I seem to be very ignorant. I wish I had been more to school." "They wouldn't have taught you that at school, my lad," he said smiling. "Why, of course you did not know it. I didn't know such things when I was your age. Look here. You must have a ladder put for you against a tree, and take a basket with a hook to the handle. There, I'll show you; but you are sure you will not tumble?" "I'll take care, sir," I said. "I'll be very careful." It was a sunny morning, and leading the way, Old Brownsmith went out to where Ike was busy putting in plants with a dibber, striding over a stretched-out line, making holes, thrusting in one of the plants he held in his left hand, and with one thrust or two of the dibber surrounding it with the soft moist earth. He raised himself unwillingly, and went off to obey orders; one of the work-women was sent to fetch some flat sieves; while from one of the sheds I brought a couple of deep cross-handled baskets to each of which a wooden hook was attached. By the time we had walked to where the king-pippin trees stood with their tall straight branches, Ike was before us with a ladder, with the lower rounds made of great length, so as to give width to the bottom. I had noticed this before when I had seen the ladders hanging up in the long shed, and now asked the reason why they were so made. "To keep them from tilting over when you are up there," said Old Brownsmith. "Gently, Ike, don't bruise them. Ah! there they go." For, as Ike thumped down the bottom of the ladder, and then let the top lean against the tree, a couple of apples were knocked off, to come down, one with a thud on the soft soil, the other to strike in the fork of the tree and bound to my feet. "Some on 'em's sure to get knocked off," growled Ike. "Who's agoin' to pick?" "He is," said Mr Brownsmith shortly. "Then you don't want me no more?" "Not at present." "Then I may go on with my planting?" "Yes." "Ho!" I could not help feeling amused at the way in which this conversation was carried on, and the heavy clumsy manner adopted by Ike in going away. "There you are, Grant," said Old Brownsmith, "plenty of apples. What do you say--can you go up the ladder safely and pick them?" "Oh yes, sir!" I cried. "And you will not fall?" "Oh! I shall not fall, sir," I cried laughing. "Very well. Up you go then. Take your basket and hook it on to the round of the ladder where you are picking, then take each apple carefully, raise it, and it will come off at a point on the stalk where it joins the twig. Don't tear them out and break the stalks, or they become unsaleable." "I'll mind, sir," I said. "I know the big Marie Louise pears at home used to come off like that at a joint." "Good!" he cried smiling, and tapping my shoulder. "When you've picked an apple of course you'll throw it into the basket?" "Yes, sir." "You'd better not," he cried sharply. "Lay it in as tenderly as you can. If you throw it in, the apple will be bruised--bruised apples are worth very little in the market, and soon decay." "I'll mind them, sir," I said, and eagerly mounting the ladder I began to pick the beautiful little apples that hung about me, Old Brownsmith watching me the while. "That's right," he said encouragingly. "When you get your basket nearly full, bring it down and empty it very gently in one of the sieves-- gently, mind." I promised, and he went away, leaving me as busy as could be in the warm sunshine, thoroughly enjoying my task, picking away carefully at the apples, beginning low down, and then getting higher and higher till I felt the ladder bend and the branch give, and I had to hold on tightly by one hand. I had to go down three times to empty my basket, pouring out the apples very gently so as not to bruise them, and at last I had picked all the pippins I could reach from the ladder. I got down and proceeded to move it, so as to get to another part of the tree. It was easy enough, after I had got it free of the twigs, to pull the ladder upright, and this done I looked at the place where I meant to put it next, and getting hold of it tightly, began to lift it by the spokes just as I had seen Ike manage it. The fact did not occur to me that I was a mere boy and he a muscular man, for I'm afraid I had plenty of conceit, and, drawing in a long breath, I lifted the ladder straight up easily enough, took a couple of steps in the right direction, and then felt to my horror that the strength of my arms was as nothing as soon as the balance ceased to be preserved, for in spite of my efforts the top of the ladder began to go over slowly, then faster and faster, then there was a sharp whishing crash as the bough of a pear-tree was literally cut off and a bump and a sharp crack. The top of the ladder had struck the ground, breaking several feet right off, and I was clinging to the bottom. One minute I was happy and in the highest of spirits; now I was plunged into a state of hopeless despair as I wondered what Old Brownsmith would say, and how much it would cost to repair that ladder. I was so prostrated by my accident that for a minute or so I stood holding on to the broken ladder, ruefully gazing at my work, and once I actually found myself looking towards the wall where the trained plum-trees formed a ladder easy of ascent for Shock, and just as easy for me to get over and run for it--anywhere so as not to have to meet Old Brownsmith after destroying his property. "Well, you've been and gone and done it now, young 'un, and no mistake," said a gruff voice; and I found that Ike had come softly up behind me. "I thought it was you tumbling and breaking of yourself again; but the ladder. Oh my!" "I couldn't help it," I cried piteously; "the top was so heavy, it seemed to pull it over when I tried to move it. Please how much will a new one cost?" "Cost!" said Ike grimly, as he stood looking with one eye at the ladder, with the other at me--"hundred--hundred and twenty--say a hundred pound at the very outside." "A hundred pounds!" I cried aghast. "Well, not more'n that," said Ike. "Trying to move it, was you? and-- why, you've smashed that branch off the pear-tree. I say, hadn't you better cut and run?" "I don't know, Ike," I said hopelessly; "had I?" "Well, I don't think I would this time. The ganger perhaps'll let you off if you pay for it out of your wage." "But I don't have any wages," I said in despair. "You don't!" he cried. "Well, then, you're in for it. My word, I wouldn't be you for a crown." I stood gazing helplessly from the ladder to Ike and back, half feeling that he was imposing upon me, but in too much trouble to resent it, and as I stared about a robin came and sat upon the broken branch, and seemed to be examining how much damage I had done. "Well, what shall we do, young 'un?" said Ike. "I suppose I must go on picking with the broken ladder," I said gloomily. "You ain't going to cut then?" "No," I said firmly. "Then look here," said Ike; "suppose I take the broken ladder up into the shed, and hang it up, and bring another. When the ganger finds it he'll think it was Shock broke it, and then you'll be all right, eh? What do you say to that?" "That I wouldn't be such a coward," I said stoutly. "I shall tell Mr Brownsmith myself." "Oh, very well!" said Ike, stooping and picking up the broken ladder. "Here, give me that bit. I'll soon be back. Don't much matter. On'y four foot gone, and we wanted a shorter one. This'll just do." "Then it won't cost a hundred pounds?" I cried. "No; nor a hundred pennies, boy. It was only my gammon. I'll soon be back." I felt as if a load had been lifted off my breast as Ike came back at a heavy trot with a fresh ladder and planted it for me against the apple-tree. "That's about safe," he cried. "If you feel yourself falling, hook one of your ears over a bough and hang on. Never mind the ladder: let that go." "That's nonsense!" I said sharply, and Ike chuckled. "Look ye here, boy," he said, as I thanked him and ran up the ladder with my empty basket, "I'll take that bough as you broke in among the gooseberries, where he never hardly comes, and I'll tell him that I broke the ladder moving it. You've had plenty of trouble already, and my shoulders is bigger than yours." "But it wouldn't be true," I said. "Wouldn't it?" he replied, with a queer look. "Well, I suppose it wouldn't; but I'll tell him all the same." "No," I cried, after a fight with a very cowardly feeling within me that seemed to be pulling me towards the creep-hole of escape, "I shall tell him myself." Ike turned off sharply, and walked straight to where the broken pear bough lay, jumped up and pulled down the place where it had snapped off, opened his knife, and trimmed the ragged place off clean, and then went back to his work. "Now he's offended," I said to myself with a sigh; and I went on picking apples in terribly low spirits. _ |
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