"Stop a moment," I said. "What's your name?"

"George Day," he replied; and then my new friend trotted off, swinging

half-a-dozen books at the end of a strap, and I sat at the window

wishing that I too could go to school and have a strap to put round my

books and swing them, for my life seemed very dull.

All at once I saw something amongst the bristly young shoots of the

plum-trees along the wall, and on looking more attentively I made out

that it was the top of Shock's straw head-piece with the lid gone, and

the hair sticking out in the most comical way.

I watched him intently, fully expecting to see another great clod of

earth come over, and wishing I had something to throw back at him; but I

had nothing but a flower-pot with a geranium in it, and the shells upon

the chimney-piece, and they were Mrs Beeton's, and I didn't like to

take them.

The head came a little higher till the whole of the straw bonnet crown

was visible, and I could just make out the boy's eyes.

Of course he was watching me, and I sat and watched him, feeling that he

must have turned one of the trained plum-trees into a ladder, and

climbed up; and I found myself wondering whether he had knocked off any

of the young fruit.

Then, as he remained perfectly still, watching me, I began to wonder why

he should be so fond of taking every opportunity he could find to stare

at me; and then I wondered what old Brownsmith would say to him, or do,

if he came slowly up behind him and caught him climbing up his

beautifully trained trees.

Just then I heard a loud cough that I knew was old Brownsmith's, for I

had heard it dozens of times, and Shock's head disappeared as if by

magic.

I jumped up to see, for I felt sure that Shock was going to catch it,

and then I saw that old Brownsmith was not in his garden, but in the

lane on our side, and that he was close beneath the window looking up at

me.

He nodded, and I had just made up my mind that I would not complain

about Shock, when there was a loud thump of the knocker, and directly

after I heard the door open, a heavy step in the passage, the door

closed, and then the sound of old Brownsmith wiping his shoes on the big

mat.

His shoes could not have wanted wiping, for it was a very dry day, but

he kept on rub--rub--rub, till Mrs Beeton, who waited upon us as well

as let us her apartments, came upstairs, knocked at my mother's door,

and went down again.




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