Brownsmith's Boy: A Romance in a Garden

by George Manville Fenn

  CHAPTER EIGHT.

  SHOCK'S BREAKFAST.

  I lay as if fascinated for a minute or two, staring, and he stared atme. Then without further hesitation I leaped out of bed and indignantlyrushed to the window, but only on opening it to find him gone.

  There was no mistake about it though, for the trellis was stillquivering, and as I looked out it seemed to me that he must have droppedpart of the way and darted round the house.

  It was very early, but the sun was shining brightly over the dew-wettrees and plants, and a fresh, delicious scent came in at the openwindow. My headache and giddiness had gone, taking with them mylow-spirited feeling, and dressing quickly I thought I would have a runround the garden and a look at Shock before Old Brownsmith came down.

  "I wonder where Shock sleeps and lives," I said to myself as I walkedround peering about the place, finding the cart gone, for I had notheard the opening gate, and crushing and bumping of the wheels as itwent out at midnight.

  The great sheds and pits seemed to be empty, and as I went down one ofthe long paths the garden was quite deserted, the men and women nothaving come.

  "They must be late," I thought, when I heard the old clock at IsleworthChurch begin to strike, and listening I counted five.

  It was an hour earlier than I thought for, and turning down a path tothe left I walked towards a sort of toolshed right in the centre of thegarden, and, to my surprise, saw that the little roughly-built chimneyin one corner of the building was sending out a column of pale-bluesmoke.

  "I wonder who has lit a fire so early!" I said to myself, and walkingslowly on I expected to see one of the garden women boiling her kettleand getting ready for her breakfast--some of the work-people I knewhaving their meals in the sheds.

  I stopped short as I reached the door, for before a fire of wood andrubbish burnt down into embers, and sending out a pretty good heat,there knelt Shock; and as I had approached quietly he had not heard me.

  I stared with wonder at him, and soon my wonder turned into disgust, forwhat he was doing seemed to be so cruel.

  The fire was burning on a big slab of stone, and the embers being sweptaway from one part the boy had there about a score of large gardensnails, which he was pushing on to the hot stone, where they hissed andsent out a lot of foam and steam. Then he changed them about with a bitof stick into hotter or cooler parts, and all with his back half-turnedto me.

  "The nasty, cruel brute!" I said to myself, for it seemed as if he weredoing this out of wantonness, and I was blaming myself for notinterfering to save the poor things from their painful death, when athought flashed across my mind, and I stood there silently watching him.

  I had not long to watch for proof.

  Taking a scrap of paper from his pocket, Shock opened it, and I saw whatit contained. Then taking a monstrous pin from out of the edge of hisjacket, he picked up one of the snails with his left hand, used the pincleverly, and dragged out one of the creatures from its shell, reducedto about half its original size, blew it, dipped it in the paper ofsalt, and, to my horror and disgust, ate it.

  Before I had recovered from my surprise he had eaten another andanother, and he was busy over the sixth when an ejaculation I utteredmade him turn and see me.

  He stared at me, pin in one hand, snail-shell in the other, for a momentin mute astonishment; then, turning more away from me, he went on withhis repast, and began insultingly to throw the shells at me over hishead.

  I bore it all for a few minutes in silence; then, feeling qualmish atthe half-savage boy's meal, I caught one of the shells as it came, andtossed it back with such good aim that it hit him a smart rap on thehead.

  He turned sharply round with a vicious look, and seemed as if about tofly at me.

  "What are you doing?" I cried.

  He had never spoken to me before, and he seemed to hesitate now, staringat me as if reluctant to use his tongue, but he did speak in a quickangry way.

  "Eatin'; can't you see?"

  I had questioned him, but I was quite as much surprised at hearing ananswer, as at the repast of which he was partaking.

  I stared hard at him, and he gave me a sidelong look, after which hegave three or four of the snails a thrust with a bit of stick to wherethey would cook better, took up another, and wriggled it out with thepin.

  I was disgusted and half nauseated, but I could not help noticing thatthe cooked snail did not smell badly, and that instead of being the wet,foaming, slimy thing I was accustomed to see, it looked dried up andfirm.

  At last, with a horrified look at the young savage, I exclaimed:

  "Do you know those are snails?"

  "Yes. Have one?"

  He answered quite sharply, and I took a step back, for I had not had mybreakfast. I was rather disposed to be faint from the effects of mylast night's accident, and the sight of what was going on made me readyto flee, for all at once, after letting his dirty fingers hover for afew moments over the hot stone, he picked up the largest snail, blew itas he threw it from hand to hand because it was hot, and ended byholding it out to me with:

  "Got a big pin?"

  I shrank away from him with my lip curling, and I uttered a peculiar"Ugh!"

  "All right!" he said gruffly. "They're stunning."

  To prove his assertion he went on eating rapidly without paying anyfurther heed to me, throwing the shells over his head, and ending byscrewing the paper up tightly that contained the salt.

  Then he sprang up and faced me; took two or three steps in my direction,and made a spring as if to jump right on to me.

  Naturally enough I gave way, and he darted out of the shed and dasheddown between two rows of trees, to be out of sight directly, for I didnot give chase.

  "He can talk," I said to myself as I went on down the garden thinking ofthe snails, and that Shock was something like the wild boy of whom I hadonce read.

  But soon the various objects in the great garden made me forget Shock,for the men were at work, hoeing, digging, and planting, and I wasbeginning to feel uncomfortable and to think that Old Brownsmith wouldbe annoyed if he found me idle, when he came down one of the walks,followed by his cats, and laid his hand upon my shoulder.

  "Better?" he said abruptly. "That's right. What you're to do? Oh waita bit, we'll see! Get used to the place first."

  He gave me a short nod, and began pointing out different tasks that hewished his men to carry out, while I watched attentively, feeling as ifI should like to run off and look at the ripening fruit, but not caringto go away, for fear Mr Brownsmith might want me.

  One thing was quite evident, and that was that the cats were disposed tobe very friendly. They did not take any notice of the men, but oneafter the other came and had a rub up against my leg, purring softly,and looking up at me with their slits of eyes closed up in the brightsunshine, till all at once Old Brownsmith laid his hand upon my shoulderagain, and said one word:

  "Breakfast!"

  I walked with him up to the house, and noticed that instead of followingus in, the cats ran up a flight of steps into a narrow loft which seemedto be their home, two of them seating themselves at once in the doorwayto blink at the sunshine.

  "Like cats?" said the old gentleman.

  "Oh yes!" I said.

  "Ah! I see you've made friends."

  "Yes, I replied; but I haven't made friends with that boy Shock."

  "Well, that does not matter," said Old Brownsmith. "Come, sit down;bread and milk morning."

  I sat down opposite to him, to find that a big basin of bread and milkstood before each of us, and at which, after a short grace, OldBrownsmith at once began.

  I hesitated for a moment, feeling a little awkward and strange, but Iwas soon after as busy as he.

  "Not going to be ill, I see," he said suddenly. "You must be on thelook-out another time. Accident--Ike didn't mean it."

  I was going to say I was sure of that, when he went on:

  "So you haven't made friends with Shock?"


  "No, sir."

  "Well, don't."

  "I will not if you don't wish it, sir," I said eagerly.

  "Be kind to him, and keep him in his place. Hasn't been rough to you,has he?"

  "Oh no!" I said. "He only seems disposed to play tricks."

  "Yes, like a monkey. Rum fellow, isn't he?"

  "Yes, sir. He isn't--"

  "Bit of an idiot, eh? Oh no! he's sharp enough. I let him do as helikes for the present. Awkward boy to manage."

  "Is he, sir?"

  "Yes, my lad. Ike found him under the horses' hoofs one night, going upto market. Little fellow had crawled out into the road. Left in theditch by some one or another. Ike put him in a half-sieve basket withsome hay, and fixed him in with some sticks same as we cover fruit, andhe curled up and went to sleep till Ike brought him in to me in theyard."

  "But where were his father and mother?" I cried.

  "Who knows!" said Old Brownsmith, poking at a bit of brown crust in hisbasin of milk. "Ike brought him to me grinning, and he said, `Here'sanother cat for you, master.'

  "I was very angry," said the old gentleman after a pause; "but just thenthe little fellow--he was about a year old--put his head up through thewooden bars and looked at me, and I told one of the women to give himsomething to eat. After that I sent him to the workhouse, where theytook care of him, and one day when he got bigger I gave him a treat, andhad him here for a day's holiday. Then after a twelvemonth, I gave himanother holiday, and I should have given him two a year, only he wassuch a young rascal. The workhouse master said he could do nothing withhim. He couldn't make him learn anything--even his letters. The onlything he would do well was work in the garden."

  "Same as he does now, sir?" I said, for I was deeply interested.

  "Same as he does now," assented Old Brownsmith. "Then one day after Ihad given him his treat, I suppose when he was about ten years old, Ifound him in the garden. He had run away from the workhouse school."

  "And did he stay here, sir?"

  "No, I sent him back, Grant, and he ran away again. I sent him backonce more, but he came back; and at last I got to be tired of it, forthe more I sent him back the more he came."

  The old gentleman chuckled and finished his bread and milk, while Iwaited to hear more.

  "I say I got tired of it at last, for I knew they flogged and locked upthe boy, and kept him on bread and water; but it did him no good; hewould run away. He used to come here, through the gate if it was open,over the wall when it was shut, and he never said a word, only hungabout like a dog.

  "I talked to him, coaxed him, and told him that if he would be a goodlad, and learn, I would have him to work some day, and he stared at mejust as if he were some dumb animal, and when I had done and sent himoff, what do you think happened, Grant?"

  "He came back again, sir."

  "Yes: came back again as soon as he could get away, and at last, being avery foolish sort of old man, I let him stop, and he has been here eversince."

  "And never goes to school?"

  "Never, Grant, I tried to send him, but I could only get him there byblows, and I gave that up. I don't like beating boys."

  I felt a curious shiver run through me as he said this, and I saw himsmile, but he made no allusion to me, and went on talking about Shock.

  "Then I tried making a decent boy of him, giving him clothes, had a bedput for him in the attic, and his meals provided for him here in thekitchen."

  "And wasn't he glad?" I said.

  "Perhaps he was," said Old Brownsmith, quietly, "but he didn't show it,for I couldn't get him to sleep in the bed, and he would not sit down tohis meals in the kitchen; so at last I grew tired, and took to payinghim wages, and made arrangements for one of the women who comes to work,to find him a lodging, and he goes there to sleep sometimes."

  I noticed that he said _sometimes_, in a peculiar manner, looking at methe while. Then he went on:

  "I've tried several times since, Grant, my lad, but the young savage isapparently irreclaimable. Perhaps when he gets older something may bedone."

  "I hope so," I said. "It seems so dreadful to see a boy so--"

  "So dirty and lost, as the north-country people call it, boy. Ah, well,let him have his way for a bit, and we'll see by and by! You say he hasnot annoyed you?"

  "No, no," I said; "I don't think he likes me though."

  "That does not matter," said the old gentleman, rising. "There, now,I'm going to shave."

  I looked at him in wonder, as he took a tin pot from out of a cupboard,and brought forth his razors, soap, and brush.

  "Give me that looking-glass that hangs on the wall, my lad; that's it."

  I fetched the glass from the nail on which it hung, and then he set itupright, propped by a little support behind, and then I sat still as heplaced his razor in boiling water, soaped his chin all round, andscraped it well, removing the grey stubble, and leaving it perfectlyclean.

  It seemed to me a curious thing to do on a breakfast-table, but it wasthe old man's custom, and it was not likely that he would change hishabits for me.

  "There," he said smiling, "that's a job you won't want to do just yetawhile. Now hang up the glass, and you can go out in the garden. Ishall be there by and by. Head hurt you?"

  "Oh no, sir!" I said.

  "Shoulder?"

  "Only a little stiff, sir."

  Then I don't think we need have the doctor any more.

  I laughed, for the idea seemed ridiculous.

  "Well, then, we won't waste his time. Put on your hat and go and seehim. You know where he lives?"

  I said that I did; and I went up to his house, saw him, and he sent meaway again, patting me on the shoulder that was not stiff.

  "Yes, you're all right," he said. "Now take care and don't get into myclutches again."