Mr Solomon heard it, but he said nothing as we went on, while I felt
very low-spirited again, and was thinking whether I had not better give
up learning how to grow fruit and go back to Old Brownsmith, and Ike,
and Shock, and Mrs Dodley, when my new guide said to me kindly: "Don't you take any notice of them, my lad."
"Them?" I said in dismay.
"Yes, there's a pair of 'em--nice pair too. But they're often away at
school, and Sir Francis is a thorough gentleman. They're not his boys,
but her ladyship's, and she has spoiled 'em, I suppose. Let 'em grow
wild, Grant. I say, my lad," he continued, looking at me with a droll
twinkle in his eye, "they want us to train them, and prune them, and
take off some of their straggling growths, eh? I think we could make a
difference in them, don't you?"
I smiled and nodded.
"Only schoolboys. Say anything, but it won't hurt us. Here we are.
Come in."
He led the way into a plainly furnished room, where everything seemed to
have been scoured till it glistened or turned white; and standing by a
table, over which the supper cloth had been spread, was a tall,
quiet-looking, elderly woman, with her greyish hair very smoothly
stroked down on either side of her rather severe face.
"This is young Grant," said Mr Solomon.
The woman nodded, and looked me all over, and it seemed as if she took
more notice of my shirt and collar than she did of me.
"Sit down, Grant, you must be hungry," said Mr Solomon; and as soon as
we were seated the woman, who, I supposed, was Mrs Solomon, began to
cut us both some cold bacon and some bread.
"Master Philip been at you long?" said Mr Solomon, with his mouth full.
"No, sir," I said; "it all happened in a moment or two."
"I'm glad you didn't hit him," he said. "Eat away, my lad."
The woman kept on cutting bread, but she was evidently listening
intently.
"I'm glad now, sir," I said; "but he hurt me so, and I was in such a
passion that I didn't think. I didn't know who he was."
"Of course not. Go on with your supper."
"I hope, sir, you don't think I was going to eat that peach," I said,
for the thought of the affair made my supper seem to choke me.
"If I thought you were the sort of boy who couldn't be trusted, my lad,
you wouldn't be here," said Mr Solomon quietly. "Bit more fat,
mother."
I brightened up, and he saw it.
"Why, of course not, my lad. Didn't I trust you, and send you in among
my choice grapes, and ripe figs, and things. There, say no more about
it. Gardeners don't grow fruit to satisfy their mouths, but their eyes,
and their minds, my lad. Eat away. Don't let a squabble with a
schoolboy who hasn't learned manners spoil your supper. We've never had
any children; but if we had, Grant, I don't think they would be like
that."