Brother Solomon came slowly towards the cart, rolling the stalk of a rosebud in his mouth, and as he took the reins he said to one of the chimneys at the top of the house:
“If I was you, Ez, I’d plant a good big bit with that winter lettuce. You’ll find ’em go off well.”
I knew now that he was talking to his brother, but he certainly seemed to be addressing himself to the chimney-pot.
“I will, Sol, a whole rood of ’em,” said Old Brownsmith, “and thank ye for the advice.”
“Quite welkim,” said Brother Solomon to the horse’s ears. “Jump up.”
He seemed to say this to Shock, who stared at him, wrinkled up his face, and shook his head.
“Yes, jump up, Grant, my lad,” said Old Brownsmith. “Fine evening for your drive.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, “good-bye; and say good-bye to Ike for me, will you, please?”
“Yes, to be sure, good-bye; God bless you, lad; and do your best.”
And I was so firm and hard just before, thinking no one cared for me, that I was ready to smile as I went away.