r to
take you in hand. There isn't one of them wants the job."

I sighed, and said:

"I'm afraid I shall be a great deal of trouble to them, sir, and an
enormous expense."

"Oh, you think so, do you!" he said, stooping down and lifting up first
one cat and then another, stroking them gently the while. Then one of
them, as usual, leaped upon his back. "Well, look here, my boy," he
said thoughtfully, "that's all nonsense about expense! I--"

He stopped short and went on stroking one cat's back, as it rubbed
against his leg, and he seemed to be thinking very deeply.

"Yes, all nonsense. See here; wait for a week or two, perhaps one of
your uncles may find you something to do, or send you to a good school,
eh?"

"No, sir," I said; "my uncle Frederick said I must not expect to be sent
to a school."

"Oh he did, did he?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, then, if nothing better turns up--if they don't find you a good
place, you might come and help me."

"Help you, sir!" I said wonderingly; "what, learn to be a
market-gardener?"

"Yes, there's nothing so very dreadful in that, is there?"

"Oh no, sir! but what could I do?"

"Heaps of things. Tally the bunches and check the sieves, learn to bud
and graft, and how to cut young trees, and--oh, I could find you enough
to do."

I looked at him aghast, and began to see in my mind's eye rough, dirty
Shock, crawling about on his hands and knees, and digging out the weeds
from among the onions with his fingers.

"Oh, there's lots of things you could do!" he continued. "Why, of a
night you might use your pen and help me do the booking, and read and
improve yourself while I sat and smoked my pipe. Cats don't come into
the house."

"Do you mean that I should come and live with you, sir?" I said.

"That's it, my boy, always supposing you couldn't do any better. Could
you?"

I shook my head. "I don't think so, sir," I said dismally.

"Not such a good life for a boy in winter when things are bare, as in
summer when the flowers are out and the fruit comes on. Like fruit,
don't you?"

"Yes, sir, but you don't let your boys eat the fruit."

"Tchah! I should never miss what you would eat," he said with a laugh,
"and you would soon get tired of the apples and pears and gooseberries.
Think you'd like to come, eh-em? You don't know; of course you don't.
Wouldn't make a gentleman of you. I never heard of a gentleman
gardener; plenty of gentlemen farmers, though."