“Make yourself at home, Grant, my boy,” he said kindly. “I want you to settle down quickly. We shall have to work hard, but you’ll enjoy your meals and sleep all the better.”
I thanked him, and tried to do as he suggested, and to eat as if I enjoyed my meal; but I did not in the least, and I certainly did not feel in the slightest degree at home.
“What time did you go to bed over yonder, Grant?” said the old gentleman.
“Ten o’clock, sir.”
“And what time did you get up?”
“Eight, sir.”
“Ugh, you extravagant young dog!” he cried. “Ten hours’ sleep! You’ll have to turn over a new leaf. Nine o’clock’s my bedtime, if we are not busy, and I like to be out in the garden again by four or five. What do you say to that?”
I did not know what to say, so I said nothing.
We did not sit very long over our tea, for there was the cart to load up with flowers for the morning’s market, and soon after I was watching Ike carefully packing in the great baskets along the bottom of the cart, and then right over the shafts upon the broad projecting ladder, and also upon that which was fitted in at the back.
“You keep account, Grant,” said Old Brownsmith to me, and I entered the number of baskets and their contents upon my slate, the old gentleman going away and leaving me to transact this part of the business myself, as I believe now, to give me confidence, for he carefully counted all the baskets and checked them off when he came back.