g may be
done."

"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 has
not 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 it
upright, propped by a little support behind, and then I sat still as he
placed his razor in boiling water, soaped his chin all round, and
scraped it well, removing the grey stubble, and leaving it perfectly
clean.

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

"There," he said smiling, "that's a job you won't want to do just yet
awhile. Now hang up the glass, and you can go out in the garden. I
shall 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 see
him. You know where he lives?"

I said that I did; and I went up to his house, saw him, and he sent me
away 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 my
clutches again."

CHAPTER NINE.

GATHERING PIPPINS.

I did not understand it at the time, but that accident made me a very
excellent friend in the shape of Ike, the big ugly carter and packer,
for after his fashion he took me regularly under his wing, and watched
over me during the time I was at Old Brownsmith's.

I'm obliged to stop again over that way of speaking of the
market-gardener, but whenever I write "Mr Brownsmith," or "the old
gentleman," it does not seem natural. Old Brownsmith it always was, and
I should not have been surprised to have seen his letters come by the
postman directed _Old Brownsmith_.

Ike used to look quite pleasant when I was busy near him, and while he
taught me all he knew, nothing pleased him better than