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 cucumber 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 title," 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."