The Water-Babies | Page 2

where Mr. Grimes, the
chimney-sweep, lived. Now, Mr. Grimes was Tom's own master, and
Tom was a good man of business, and always civil to customers, so he
put the half-brick down quietly behind the wall, and proceeded to take
orders.

Mr. Grimes was to come up next morning to Sir John Harthover's, at
the Place, for his old chimney-sweep was gone to prison, and the
chimneys wanted sweeping. And so he rode away, not giving Tom time
to ask what the sweep had gone to prison for, which was a matter of
interest to Tom, as he had been in prison once or twice himself.
Moreover, the groom looked so very neat and clean, with his drab
gaiters, drab breeches, drab jacket, snow-white tie with a smart pin in it,
and clean round ruddy face, that Tom was offended and disgusted at his
appearance, and considered him a stuck-up fellow, who gave himself
airs because he wore smart clothes, and other people paid for them; and
went behind the wall to fetch the half- brick after all; but did not,
remembering that he had come in the way of business, and was, as it
were, under a flag of truce.
His master was so delighted at his new customer that he knocked Tom
down out of hand, and drank more beer that night than he usually did in
two, in order to be sure of getting up in time next morning; for the more
a man's head aches when he wakes, the more glad he is to turn out, and
have a breath of fresh air. And, when he did get up at four the next
morning, he knocked Tom down again, in order to teach him (as young
gentlemen used to be taught at public schools) that he must be an extra
good boy that day, as they were going to a very great house, and might
make a very good thing of it, if they could but give satisfaction.
And Tom thought so likewise, and, indeed, would have done and
behaved his best, even without being knocked down. For, of all places
upon earth, Harthover Place (which he had never seen) was the most
wonderful, and, of all men on earth, Sir John (whom he had seen,
having been sent to gaol by him twice) was the most awful.
Harthover Place was really a grand place, even for the rich North
country; with a house so large that in the frame-breaking riots, which
Tom could just remember, the Duke of Wellington, and ten thousand
soldiers to match, were easily housed therein; at least, so Tom believed;
with a park full of deer, which Tom believed to be monsters who were
in the habit of eating children; with miles of game-preserves, in which
Mr. Grimes and the collier lads poached at times, on which occasions

Tom saw pheasants, and wondered what they tasted like; with a noble
salmon-river, in which Mr. Grimes and his friends would have liked to
poach; but then they must have got into cold water, and that they did
not like at all. In short, Harthover was a grand place, and Sir John a
grand old man, whom even Mr. Grimes respected; for not only could he
send Mr. Grimes to prison when he deserved it, as he did once or twice
a week; not only did he own all the land about for miles; not only was
he a jolly, honest, sensible squire, as ever kept a pack of hounds, who
would do what he thought right by his neighbours, as well as get what
he thought right for himself; but, what was more, he weighed full
fifteen stone, was nobody knew how many inches round the chest, and
could have thrashed Mr. Grimes himself in fair fight, which very few
folk round there could do, and which, my dear little boy, would not
have been right for him to do, as a great many things are not which one
both can do, and would like very much to do. So Mr. Grimes touched
his hat to him when he rode through the town, and called him a
"buirdly awd chap," and his young ladies "gradely lasses," which are
two high compliments in the North country; and thought that that made
up for his poaching Sir John's pheasants; whereby you may perceive
that Mr. Grimes had not been to a properly-inspected Government
National School.
Now, I dare say, you never got up at three o'clock on a midsummer
morning. Some people get up then because they want to catch salmon;
and some because they want to climb Alps; and a great many more
because they must, like Tom. But, I assure you, that three o'clock on a
midsummer morning is the pleasantest time of all