Chapter 24. Sir Francis And A Friend

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_ CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR. SIR FRANCIS AND A FRIEND

The next few days passed 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 principal part of his work in the glass 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."

"That's right," he said, patting me on the shoulder; "always try and like your work; take a pride in it, my man, and it will turn up trumps some time or another. It means taking prizes."

I had not seen Sir Francis yet, for he had been away, and I could not help feeling a little nervous about our first meeting. Still I was pretty happy there, and I felt that in spite of a few strong sensations of longing to be back at the old garden with Ike and Shock, I was getting to like my new life very much indeed, and that as soon as the two boys had gone back to their school I should be as happy as could be.

I was gradually getting to like Mr Solomon, and Mrs Solomon grew more kind to me every day. The men about the garden, too, were all very civil to me, and beyond a little bit of good-humoured banter from them now and then I had no cause for complaint.

My great fear was that they would catch up the name young Philip had bestowed upon me. That they knew of it I had pretty good evidence, for one day when I was busy over one of the verbena beds--busy at a task Mr Solomon had set me after the sun had made the peach-house too hot, a big bluff gardener came and worked close by me, mowing the grass in a shady part under some trees.

"It's dry, and cuts like wire," he said, stopping to wipe his scythe and give it a touch with the stone, making the blade ring and send forth what always sounded to be pleasant music to me.

"Oughtn't you to cut it when the dew is on?" I said.

"Yes, squire, if you can," he replied; "but there is so much grass we can't get over it all in the early morning."

He went on mowing, and I continued my task of pegging down the long shoots of the beautiful scarlet, crimson, and white flowers, just as Mr Solomon had instructed me, when all at once he came and looked on, making me feel very nervous; but he nodded and went away, so I supposed he was satisfied, and I worked on again as cheerfully as could be, till all at once I felt the blood flush up in my face, for the voice of young Philip Dalton came unpleasantly grating on my ear, as he said:

"Hullo, Bunce, mowing again?"

"Yes, Master Philup, mowin' again."

"Why, you've got the pauper there!" cried Philip. "I say, did you know he was a pauper?"

"No," said Bunce, "I didn't know. Do you want your legs ampytated?"

"No, stoopid, of course I don't."

"Then get outer the way or I shall take 'em off like carrots."

"Get out!" said Philip, as I saw that he was watching me. "I say, though, did you know that he was a pauper, and lived on skilly?"

"No," said the gardener quietly; and I felt as if I must get up and go away, for now I knew I should be a mark of contempt for the whole staff who worked in the garden.

"He was," said Philip.

"Pauper, was he?" said Bunce, making his scythe glide round in a half circle. "I shouldn't ha' thought it."

"Oh but he was or is, and always will be," said the boy maliciously. "Once a pauper always a pauper. Look at him."

"I've been a looking at him," said Bunce slowly, for he was a big meditative man, and he stood upright, took a piece of flannel from the strap that supported his whetstone sheath, and wiped the blade of the scythe.

"Well, can't you see?" cried my tormentor, watching me as I worked away and assumed ignorance of his presence.

"No," said Bunce sturdily; "and seeing what a long, yellow, lizardly-looking wisp you are, Master Phil, if you two changed clothing I should pick you out as the pauper."

"How dare you!" cried the boy fiercely.

"Mind the scythe," shouted Bunce; "d'yer want to get cut?"

"You insolent old worm chopper, how dare you call me a pauper?"

"I didn't call you a pauper," said Bunce chuckling; "did I, Grant?"

"No," I said.

"You're a liar, you pauper!" cried the boy, who was furious. "I'll tell papa--I'll tell Sir Francis, and you shall both be discharged, you blackguards."

"I'm just going to mow there, squire," said Bunce, sharpening away at his scythe.

"Then you'll wait till I choose to move."

"If you don't get out of the way I shall take the soles off your boots," said Bunce, putting back his rubber.

"I'll speak to papa about your insolence," cried the boy, with his eyes flashing and his fists clenched; and I thought he was going to strike Bunce.

"Well," said a sharp ringing voice, "speak to him then. What is it?"

I started to my feet, and Bunce touched his cap to a tall elderly gentleman with closely-cut grey hair and a very fierce-looking white moustache, whose keen eyes seemed to look me through and through.

"I said, what is it, Phil?" cried the newcomer, whom I felt to be Sir Francis before Philip spoke.

"This fellow called me a pauper, pa!"

Sir Francis turned sharply on Bunce, who did not seem in the slightest degree alarmed.

"How dare you call my son a pauper, sir?" he said sternly.

"I--"

"Stop!" cried Sir Francis. "Here, you boy, go away and wait till I call you. Not far."

"Yes, sir," I said; and I walked away thinking what a fierce quick man he seemed, and not knowing then that he was one of the magistrates.

A minute later he called to me to go back, and as soon as I had reached him, with Philip by his side and Bunce before him, Philip stepped back and held up his fist at me menacingly.

He thought the movement was unobserved by his stepfather; but Sir Francis, who was an old Indian officer, noted the act, as he showed us directly after.

"Now, boy," he said, "what's your name?"

"Grant, Sir Francis."

"Well, Grant, did this under-gardener call Master Philip a pauper?"

I told him exactly what had occurred, and Sir Francis turned sharply on his step-son.

"You were already self-condemned, Philip," he said sternly. "I saw you threaten this boy with your fist. The way to win respect from those beneath you in station is to treat them with respect."

"But, papa--"

"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 hit 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 grass 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 assailant.

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:

"Come, pauper, work away."

I took no notice, when a half-sucked gooseberry struck me on the arm.

It was a disgusting act on the young coward's part, but though in a moment I felt on fire, I only wiped it off, when Courtenay threw one and hit me on the face.

I wiped that away too, and raising my can stepped off the path on to the bed to go to the trench, but not in time to avoid a large over-ripe gooseberry which smashed as it struck me in the ear and began to trickle down.

I was in such a rage that the roar of laughter from my two tyrants half maddened me, and I watered that celery in a way that washed some of the roots quite bare.

They were waiting for me when I got back to the tub, and, emboldened by the patient way in which I bore their insults, they kept on pelting me with the over-ripe fruit till I had it in my hair, my eyes, and down within the collar of my shirt.

I ground my teeth with rage, and felt that I could bear it no longer, but I made no sign.

Then they pelted me with words too, inventing ridiculous names, asking me about the workhouse food, and at last I determined to bear it no longer, but go straight up to the house and show Sir Francis the state I was in and beg him to put a stop to this annoyance.

But just then it flashed upon my mind that Sir Francis and her ladyship had gone out the day before to stay somewhere for a fortnight, and this explained the boldness of the two young ruffians, who had never behaved so outrageously before.

"If I go and tell Mr Solomon," I thought, "he will only tell me I was foolish to take any notice;" and at last, writhing with annoyance, I emptied the barrel and trundled it down to the pond, hoping to leave my tormentors behind.

But no; they followed me and continued their assaults as soon as they had replenished their caps with the gooseberries that were abundant on the bushes, over-ripe many of them, and of monstrous size.

"Did you ever see such a coward?" said Philip.

"Like all these paupers," cried Courtenay. "Ha! ha! ha! right in the ear."

I stamped with rage for his words were true about his aim, though I did not feel cowardly, for I was working hard to do my duty and keep my hands from my assailants.

"Give him one in the eye," said Philip. "Bet you twopence, Court, I hit him first in the eye."

They went on pelting and I went on filling my barrel, dipping with the bucket and pouring it in, and a dozen times over it was all I could do to keep from discharging the contents of the pail in Courtenay's face.

Full at last, and I was ready to go up the garden again.

I glanced round in the hope of seeing Mr Solomon or Bunce or one of the other gardeners; but they were all busy in the upper gardens, while I was quite shut in here with my tormentors.

"Here, let's get some more shot, Court," cried Philip. "I'll serve the sneaking coward out for getting me in that row with pa."

"Wait a bit," said his brother; "look at him. He goes down just like a monkey. He's going to wash his gooseberry face."

He was quite right, for I had laid my cap aside and stooped down at the dipping place to wash off some of the seedy, sticky pulp before going back.

"Dirty brute!" said Philip. "I never saw such a coward in my life."

I ought to have been on my guard and not have given them the opportunity which I did, for as I stooped down there, crouching on my heels, I placed a great temptation in Courtenay Dalton's way. For as I stooped right down, scooping up the water with one hand to bathe my face, I suddenly felt a sharp thrust from a foot on my back, and before I could save myself I was head over heels in the deep water.

It was not so deep but that I got my footing directly, and seizing the post at the side tried to struggle out, when amidst shouts of laughter Philip cried:

"Give him another dowse. That's the way to wash a pauper clean."

I was half-blind with the water, as Courtenay thrust my hand from the post, and in I went again, to come up red hot instead of cold.

He thrust me in again and I went right under; but my rage was not quenched, and, taught by my experience, I made a rush as if to spring out on to the dipping-place but instead of doing so I caught at a branch of a willow by the side and sprang out.

"Shake yourself, dog!" cried Courtenay, roaring with laughter.

"Fetch him a towel," cried Philip. "A towel for the clean pauper. Give him another ducking, Courtenay."

He ran at me, but in those moments I had forgotten everything in my thirst to be revenged on my cowardly persecutors.

Philip only seemed to be something in my way as I made at his brother, and throwing out one fist, he went down amongst the willows, while the next minute I was striking at Courtenay with all my might.

He was a bigger boy than I. Taller and older, and he had had many a good fight at school no doubt; but my onslaught staggered him, and I drove him before me, striking at him as he reached the handles of my water-barrow, and he fell over them heavily.

This only enraged him, and he sprang up and received my next blow right in the face, to be staggered for the moment.

Then I don't know what happened, only that my arms were going like windmills, that I was battering Courtenay, and that he was battering me; that we were down, and then up, and then down again, over and over, and fighting fiercely as a couple of dogs.

I think I was getting the best of it, when I began to feel weak, and that my adversary was hitting me back and front at once.

Then I realised that Philip had attacked me too, and that I was getting very much the worst of it in a sort of thunderstorm which rained blows.

Then the blows only came from one side, for there was a hoarse panting and the sound of heavy blows and scuffling away from me, while I was hitting out again with all my might at one boy instead of two.

All at once there was a crash and the rattle of an iron handle, and Courtenay went down. He had caught against the pail and fallen.

This gave me time to glance round and see in a half-blinded way that Philip was fighting with some other boy, who closed with him, and down they went together.

"Yah! yah! Cowards! cowards!" cried a voice that I well knew; and I saw giddily that Courtenay and Philip were running up the path, and that Shock was standing beside me.

"Well done!" cried another voice. "What a licking you two give 'em!"

Shock started, and ran, darting among the bushes, while I sat down on a barrow-handle, feeling rather thick and dizzy.

"I was coming to stop it. Two to one's too bad; but that ragged chap come out at young Phil, and my word, he did give it him well. Are you much hurt, my lad?"

"No, not much, Mr Bunce," I said, staring at him in rather a confused way.

"Here, I'll get some water," he said; and he went and dipped a pailful. "Bathe your face in that."

I did so, and felt clearer and refreshed directly.

"Go on," he said; "keep it up. It will stop the bleeding. What! have you been in the pond?"

"Yes," I said; "they've been pelting me this last half hour, and then they pushed me in."

"The young rips!" cried Bunce. "Never mind. I'm as pleased as if some one had given me a sovereign."

"Yes," I said dismally; "and they'll tell Sir Francis, and I shall have to go."

"Not you," said Bunce. "They're awful curs, but they're beaten, and they won't tell."

"Hallo! what's all this?" said Mr Solomon, coming up.

Bunce told him.

"And did he thrash 'em well?" said Mr Solomon, looking rather angry, "the pair of them?"

"No. They were too strong both at once, but that Ragged Jack of a chap that's been hanging about--him as I told you of this morning--he come out and tackled young Phil when he was on Grant's back, and my word those two have gone off with their tails between their legs. Licked, sir, licked out and out."

"I suppose I shall be sent away, sir," I said, wringing the water out of my shirt-sleeves.

"I suppose you won't," said Mr Solomon sharply. "I've seen a deal, my lad, and I wondered you didn't have a turn at them before. I didn't think you'd got the stuff in you, to tell you the truth."

"Oh, but he had!" said Bunce. "I wish you'd ha' seen."

"Well, I'm sorry," said Mr Solomon. "No, I'm not; I'm glad. They'll leave you alone now. There, go and change your things. It was time you did strike. Here, I'll go with you, or you'll frighten the missus into fits. I say," he shouted back, "keep a sharp look-out for that boy, and catch him if you can. I must have him stopped."

"Poor old Shock!" I thought, as I felt grateful to him for what he had done.

The next minute I was at the gardener's cottage, being scolded and wiped by Mrs Solomon, who said she had never seen such a sight in her life, and who was not happy till she had me down-stairs in dry things, bathing one of my eyes, putting a leech on the other, and carefully strapping up a cut on the back of my head. _

Read next: Chapter 25. I Have A Difficult Task

Read previous: Chapter 23. I Begin Work

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