It was about a month after that sad scene that I went over to see old
Brownsmith. I was very young, but my life with my invalid mother had, I
suppose, made me thoughtful; and though I used to sit a great deal at
the window I felt as if I had not the heart to go into the great garden,
where every path and bed would seem to bring up one of the days when
somebody used to be sitting there, watching the flowers and listening to
the birds.
I used to fancy that if I went down any of her favourite walks I should
burst out crying; and I had a horror of doing that, for the knowledge
was beginning to dawn upon me that a great change was coming over my
life, and that I must begin to think of acting like a man.
As I turned in at the gate I saw Shock at the door of one of the lofts
over the big packing-sheds. He had evidently gone up there after some
baskets, and as soon as I saw him I walked quickly in his direction; but
he darted out of sight in the loft; and if I had any idea of scaling the
ladder and going up to him to take him by storm, it was checked at once,
for a half-sieve basket--one of those flat, round affairs in which fruit
is packed--came flying out of the door, and then another and another,
one after the other, at a tremendous rate, quite sufficient to have
knocked me backwards before I was half-way up.
"A brute!" I said angrily to myself. "I'll treat him with contempt;"
and striding away I went down the garden, with the creaking, banging of
the falling baskets going on. And when I turned to look, some fifty
yards away, there was a big heap of the round wicker-work flats at the
foot of the ladder, and others kept on flying out of the door.
I had not gone far before I saw old Brownsmith busy as usual amongst his
cats; and as he rose from stooping to tie up a plant he caught sight of
me, and immediately turned down the path where I was.
He held out his great rough hand, took mine, and shook it up and down
gently for quite a minute, just as if it had been the handle of a pump.
"Seen my new pansies?" he said.
I shook my head.
"No, of course you haven't," he said. "Well, how are you?"
I said I was pretty well, and hoped he was. "Middling," he replied.
"Want more sun. Can't get my pears to market without more sun."
"It has been dull," I said.
"Splendid for planting out, my lad, but bad for ripening off. Well, how
are you?"