"Now--now--now--now!" he cried; "don't go on that how."

"Did you come this morning?" I said.

"Been here 'most a week."

"And I didn't know! But why did you leave Mr Brownsmith?"

"I left Old Brownsmith because I wanted to leave him."

"Did you have a quarrel, Ike?"

"Quarrel? No! What should I want to quarrel for?"

"But why did you leave?"

"'Cause I liked. Man ain't a slave, is he?"

"I am glad you're here, though, Ike," I cried.

"Not you," he said sourly, as he thrust and chopped and levelled the
soil.

"Indeed but I am," I cried. "Yes, sir, coming," I shouted, for I heard
Mr Solomon asking for me.

I went to him, and he set me to water the pots that had been plunged
under the big wall; but on going to the pump in the middle of the big
walk, where the well was that we used for this garden, I found the
handle swing loosely up and down.

I went and told Mr Solomon that there was no water to be had there.

"I thought as much!" he cried angrily. "I saw those boys jerking the
handle about yesterday. Here, Bunce!"

Bunce was sent off with a message, and I went about some other task,
glad to find that Ike was there at work, for somehow I liked him, though
I did not know why, since he was always very gruff and snappish with me.
But still it seemed as if he had come to Hampton because I was there.

The next morning, after breakfast, as I went down the garden I found
that Mr Solomon was by the well talking to a man who carried a basket
of tools.

As I approached he put them down, Mr Solomon helped him, and together
they lifted up a great stone in the pathway, which covered the mouth of
the well.

There is something very attractive and yet repellent about a well, at
least to me. I always want to look down it and listen to the peculiar
echoing noise, and the whispers that seem to creep about its green wet
sides.

It was so here, and while the man stood talking to Mr Solomon I went
down on one knee and peered into the well, to see, far down, a
glistening round of what looked like a mirror with my face in it, but in
a blurred indistinct way, for there was a musical splashing of water
falling from the sides, and as I bent lower the air seemed cold and
dank, while above it was sunny and warm.

I started up suddenly, for just then I heard a laugh, and recalling the
way in which I had been thrust into the pond I did not care to risk a
kick from him who laughed, or from his companion.

For, att