"Well, what have you to say?"
I could not answer for some moments, for my feelings of indignation got
the better of me, but at last I blurted out: "I went down the garden Sir Francis, to try and catch some moths."
"With this, eh?" said Sir Francis picking up something from the floor,
and placing my old dark lantern on the table.
"Yes, Sir Francis," I said. "I am making a collection."
"Where is it, then?"
"Down at the cottage, Sir Francis."
"Humph!" ejaculated Sir Francis. "Have you seen his collection,
Brownsmith?"
"Yes, Sir Francis; he has a great many--butterflies and moths."
"Humph! Sugar the trees, eh?"
"Yes, sir," I said quickly.
"And do you know that he goes down the garden of a night?"
"Yes, Sir Francis, often," said Mr Solomon.
"Isn't it enough to tempt him to take the pears?"
"No, Sir Francis," replied Mr Solomon boldly. "I might just as well
say to you, `Isn't it enough to tempt him to take the grapes or the
peaches to trust him among them alone.'"
"He did steal the peaches when he first came. I caught him at it,"
cried Philip viciously.
"No, you did not, young gentleman," said Mr Solomon sternly; "but I saw
you cut two bunches of grapes one evening--the Muscat of Alexandria--and
take them away."
"Oh what a wicked story!" cried Philip, angrily.
"Call it what you like, young gentleman," said Mr Solomon; "but it's a
fact. I meant to speak to Sir Francis, for I hate the choice fruit to
be touched till it's wanted for the house; but I said to myself he's
only a schoolboy and he was tempted, and here are the young gentleman's
nail scissors, Sir Francis, that he dropped in his hurry and left
behind."
As Mr Solomon spoke he handed a pair of pearl-handled scissors--a pair
of those spring affairs with a tiny knife-blade in each handle--and in
the midst of a dead silence laid them on the table before Sir Francis.
"Those are not mine," said Philip hastily.
"Humph!" ejaculated Sir Francis, picking them up and examining them. "I
shall have to order you out of the room, man, if you make that noise,"
he cried, as he turned to Ike.
"I weer on'y laughin', your worship," said Ike.
"Then leave off laughing, sir," continued Sir Francis, "and have the
goodness to tell me what you were doing down the garden. Were you
collecting moths with a dark lantern?"
"Me, your honour! not I."
"What were you doing, then?"
"Well, your honour's worship, I was having a bit of a sleep--tired, you
see."
"Oh!" exclaimed Sir Francis. "Now, look here, Grant, you knew that man
was down the garden."
"Yes, Sir Francis."