Brownsmiths Boy | Page 4

always used to make me think of apples, and he was always

dressed the same--in black, with a clean white shirt front, and a white
cravat without any starch. Perhaps it was so that they might not get in
the mud, but at any rate his black trousers were very tight, and his
tail-coat was cut very broad and loose, with cross pockets like a
shooting-jacket, and these pockets used to bulge.
Sometimes they bulged because he had bast matting for tying up plants,
and a knife in one, and a lot of shreds and nails and a hammer in the
other; sometimes it was because he had been picking up fruit, or
vegetable marrows, or new potatoes, whatever was in season. They
always made me think of the clown's breeches, because he used to put
everything in, and very often a good deal would be sticking out.
I remember once seeing him go down the garden with a good-sized
kitten in each pocket, for there were their heads looking over the sides,
and they seemed to be quite contented, blinking away at the other cats
which were running and skipping about.
For that boy's master, who was called Brownsmith, was a great man for
cats; and whenever he went down his garden there were always six or
eight blacks, and black and whites, and tabbies, and tortoise-shells
running on before or behind him. When he stopped, first one and then
another would have a rub against his leg, beginning with the point of its
nose, and running itself along right to the end of its tail, crossing over
and having a rub on the other side against the other leg.
So sure as one cat had a rub all the others that could get a chance had a
rub as well. Then perhaps their master would stoop down with his knife
in his teeth, and take a piece of bast from his pocket, to tie up a flower
or a lettuce, when one of the cats was sure to jump on his back, and
stop there till he rose, when sometimes it would go on and sit upon his
shoulder, more often jump off.
It used to interest me a good deal to watch old Brownsmith and his cats,
for I had never known that a cat would run after any one out of doors
like a dog. Then, too, they were so full of fun, chasing each other
through the bushes, crouching down with their tails writhing from side
to side, ready to spring out at their master, or dash off again up the side

of a big tree, and look down at him from high upon some branch.
I say all this used to interest me, for I had no companions, and went to
no school, but spent my time with my poor mother, who was very ill;
and I know now how greatly she must have suffered often and often,
when, broken down in health and spirit, suffering from a great sorrow,
she used to devote all her time to teaching me.
Our apartments, as you see, overlooked old Brownsmith's
market-garden, and very often, as I sat there watching it, I used to wish
that I could be as other boys were, running about free in the fields,
playing cricket and football, and learning to swim, instead of being shut
up there with my mother.
Perhaps I was a selfish boy, perhaps I was no worse than others of my
age. I know I was very fond of my mother, for she was always so sweet,
and gentle, and tender with me, making the most tedious lessons
pleasant by the way she explained them, and helping me when I was
worried over some arithmetical question about how many men would
do so much work in such and such a number of days if so many men
would do the same work in another number of days.
These sums always puzzled me, and do now; perhaps it is because I
have an awkwardly shaped brain.
Sometimes, as we sat over the lessons, I used to see a curious pained
look spread over my mother's face, and the tears would come in her
eyes, but when I kissed her she would smile directly and call my
attention to the beauty of the rime frost on the fruit-trees in
Brownsmith's garden; or, if it was summer, to the sweet scent of the
flowers; or to the ripening fruit in autumn.
Ah, if I had known then, I say to myself, how different I might have
been; how much more patient and helpful to her! But I did not know,
for I was a very thoughtless boy.
Now it came to pass one day that an idea entered my head as I