ine,' it ought to have been, `A
washed leaf keeps off grief.' See here."

He took the syringe, filled it, and sent a fine shower beneath the
leaves of the melons, where they were trained over a trellis, thoroughly
washing them all over.

"Now you try," he said, and taking off my jacket I syringed away
vigorously, while with matting and knife he tied in some loose strands
and cut off others, so as to leave the vines neat.

"That'll do for the present," he said; "but mind this, Grant, if ever
you see an enemy, shoot him while he's a single man if you can. Wait
till to-morrow, you'll have to shoot all his relations too."

He led the way out of the pit, and round by the grounds, where different
men were at work mowing and sweeping, the short cut grass smelling
delicious in the morning air. He spoke to first one and then another in
a short business-like way, and then went on with me to one of the great
conservatories up by the house.

"I might put you to that sort of work, Grant," he said, giving his head
a backward jerk; "but that wants no brains. Work under glass does. You
want to work with your hands and your head. Now we'll have a tidy up in
here. Sir Francis likes plenty of bright flowers."

I should have liked to stop looking about as soon as we were in the
large glass building, which was one mass of bloom; but following Mr
Solomon's example I was soon busily snipping off dead flowers and
leaves, so as to make the various plants tidy; and I was extremely busy
in one corner over this when I suddenly found that Mr Solomon was
watching me, and that a big bell was ringing somewhere.

"That's right," he said, nodding his head in a satisfied way. "That's
what I want. You don't know much yet, but you will. If I was to set
one of those men to do that he'd have knocked off half the buds, and--
what have you been doing there?"

"I tied up those two flower-stems," I said. "Wasn't it right, sir?"

"Right and wrong, my lad," he said, whipping out his knife and cutting
them free. "Look here."

He took a piece of wet matting--a mere strip--and tied them up again,
with his big fingers moving so quickly and cleverly that I wondered.

"There, that's the way. Looks the same as you did it, eh?"

"Yes," I said, smiling.

"No, it isn't. You tied yours in front of the stem, with an ugly knot
to rub and fret it, and make a sore place when the windows were open.
I've put a neat band round mine, and the knot rests o