Then there was old Brownsmith's heavy foot on the stair, and he was

shown in to where I was waiting.

"Mrs Dennison will be here directly," said our landlady, and the old

man smiled pleasantly at me.

I say old man, for he was in my eyes a very old man, though I don't

suppose he was far beyond fifty; but he was very grey, and grey hairs in

those days meant to me age.

"How do?" he said as soon as he saw me. "Being such a nigh neighbour I

thought I'd come and pay my respects."

He had a basket in his hand, and just then my mother entered, and he

turned and began backing before her on to me.

"Like taking a liberty," he said in his rough way, "but your son and

me's old friends, ma'am, and I've brought you a few strawberries before

they're over."

Before my mother could thank him he went on: "Been no rain, you see, and the sun's ripening of 'em off so fast. A

few flowers, too, not so good as they should be, ma'am, but he said you

liked flowers."

I saw the tears stand in my mother's eyes as she thanked him warmly for

his consideration, and begged him to sit down.

But no. He was too busy. Lot of people getting ready for market and he

was wanted at home, he said, but he thought he would bring those few

strawberries and flowers.

"I told him, you know, how welcome you'd be," he continued. "Garden's

always open to you, ma'am. Come often. Him too."

He was at the door as he said this, and nodding and bowing he backed

out, while I followed him downstairs to open the door.

"Look here," he said, offending me directly by catching hold of one end

of my neckerchief, "you bring her over, and look here," he went on in a

severe whisper, "you be a good boy to her, and try all you can to make

her happy. Do you hear?"

"Yes, sir," I said. "I do try."

"That's right. Don't you worry her, because--because it's my opinion

that she couldn't bear it, and boys are such fellows. Now you mind."

"Yes, sir," I said, "I'll mind;" and he went away, while, when I

returned to the room where my mother was holding the flowers to her

face, and seeming as if their beauty and sweetness were almost more than

she could bear, I glanced towards the window, and there once more, with

his head just above the wall, and peering through the thick bristling

twigs, was that boy Shock, watching our window till old Brownsmith

reached his gate.

Hardly a week had passed before the old man got hold of me as I was

going by his gate, taking me as usual by the end of my tie and leading

me down the garden to cut some more flowers.




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