He pointed to a pile that some men had been making, and these I found all had “Brownsmith, Isleworth,” painted upon them, and it dawned upon me now that those which had been carried away would not be returned till next journey.
“That’s it,” said Ike. “Market-gardeners has to give a lot o’ trust that way.”
“But do they get the baskets all back again, Ike?” I said.
“To be sure they do, my lad—Oh yes, pretty well.”
“But shall we get paid the money for all that’s been sold this morning?”
“Why, of course, my lad. That gentleman as sold for us, he’s our salesman; and he pays for it all, and they pay him. Don’t you see?”
I said “Yes,” but my mind was not very clear about it.
“We’re all right there. Work away, Shock, and let’s finish loading up, and then we’ll have our breakfast. Nice sort o’ looking party you are, to take anywhere to feed,” he grumbled, as he glanced at Shock, whose appearance was certainly not much in his favour.
It was much easier work loading with empty baskets, and besides there was not a full load, so that it was not very long before Ike had them all piled up to his satisfaction and the ropes undone and thrown over and over and laced in and out and hooked and tied and strained to the sides of the cart.
“That’s the way we does it, squire,” cried Ike; “haul away, Shock, my lad. You’ve worked well. Old Bonyparty’s had the best of it; this is his rest and feeding time. You might leave him there hours; but as soon as it’s time to go home, away he starts, and there’s no stopping him.