I did the same, making no further advances to him, though, as I recalled
how I hammered his body and head, and how he must have been pricked by
falling into the gooseberry bush, I felt sorry, and if he had offered to
shake hands I should have forgotten how grubby his always were, and held
out mine at once.
As the afternoon wore on we filled our baskets, and more had to be
fetched. Then, later on, I wanted my ladder moved to another tree, and
came down and called Ike, but he was not there, so I asked one of the
other men, who came and did it for me, and then moved Shock's.
I was just mounting again when Ike came up, taking long strides and
scowling angrily.
"S'pose you couldn't ha' waited a moment, could you?" he growled. "I
didn't move the ladder just as you wanted, I suppose. You're precious
partickler, you are. Now, look here, my fine gentleman, next time you
want a ladder moved you may move it yourself."
"But I did call you, Ike," I said; "and you weren't there."
"I hadn't gone to get another two hundred o' plarnts, I suppose, and was
comin' back as fast as I could, I s'pose. No, o' course not. I ought
to ha' been clost to your elber, ready when you called. Never mind;
next time you wants the ladder moved get some one else, for I sha'n't do
it;" and he strode away.
Half an hour later he was back to see if I wanted it moved, and waited
till I had finished gathering a few more apples, when, smiling quite
good-humouredly, he shifted the ladder into a good place.
"There," he said, "you'll get a basketful up there.
"Shock, shall I shift yours 'fore I go? That's your sort. Well, you
two chaps have picked a lot."
I soon grew quite at home at Old Brownsmith's, and found him very kind.
Ike, too, in his rough way, quite took to me--at least if anything had
to be done he was offended if I asked another of the men. I worked hard
at the fruit-picking, and kept account when Ike laid straw or fern over
the tops of the bushel and half-bushel baskets, and placed sticks
across, lattice fashion, to keep the apples and pears in. Then of a
night I used to transfer the writing on the slate to a book, and tell
Old Brownsmith what I had put down, reading the items over and summing
up the quantities and the amounts they fetched when the salesmen's
accounts came from Covent Garden.
The men and women about the place--all very quiet, thoughtful people--
generally had a smile for me when I said good-morning, and I went on
capitally, my old troubles being distant and the memories less painful
day by day.