"Yes, of course, on to the paving-stones, and the getting into the
market and finding a good pitch, and the selling off in the morning.
Ah! it would be a treat for you, my lad. I'm sorry for yer."
Ike's sorrow lasted, and I grew quite uneasy at last through being
looked down upon with so much contempt; but, as is often the case, I had
leave when I least expected it.
We had been very busy cutting, bunching, and packing flowers one day,
when all at once Old Brownsmith came and looked at my slate with the
total of the flower baskets set down side by side with the tale of the
strawberry baskets, for it was in the height of the season.
"Big load to-night, Grant," the old gentleman said.
"Yes, sir; largest load you've sent up this year," I replied, in all my
newly-fledged importance as a young clerk.
"You had better go up with Ike to-night, Grant," said the old man
suddenly. "You are big enough now, and a night out won't hurt you.
Here, Ike!"
"Yes, master."
"You'll want a little help to-morrow morning to stand by you in the
market. Will you have Shock?"
"Yes, master, he's the very thing, if you'll send some one to hold him,
or lend me a dog-collar and chain."
"Don't be an idiot, Ike," said Old Brownsmith sharply.
"No, master."
"Would you rather have this boy?"
"Would I rather? Just hark at him!"
Ike looked round at me as if this was an excellent joke, but Old
Brownsmith took it as being perfectly serious, and gave Ike a series of
instructions about taking care of me.
"Of course you will not go to a public-house on the road."
"'Tain't likely," growled Ike, "'less he gets leading me astray and
takes me there."
"There's a coffee-shop in Great Russell Street where you can get your
breakfasts."
"Lookye here, master," growled Ike in an ill-humoured voice, "ain't I
been to market afore?"
"I shall leave him in your charge, Ike, and expect you to take care of
him."
"Oh, all right, master!" said Ike, and then the old gentleman gave me a
nod and walked away.
"At last, Ike!" I cried. "Hurrah! Why, what's the matter?"
"What's the matter?" said Ike in tones of disgust; "why, everything's
the matter. Here, let's have a look at you, boy. Yes," he continued,
turning me round, and as if talking to himself, "it is a boy. Any one
to hear him would have thought it was a sugar-stick."