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.