CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.
I BEGIN WORK.
Boys like sleep in the morning, but the desire to cuddle up for a few minutes more and to go back to dreamland is not there on the first morning at a new home or at a fresh school.
On that particular morning I did not feel in the least sleepy, only uncomfortably nervous; and, hearing voices through the wall, I jumped up and dressed quickly, to find on going down that Mr Solomon was in the kitchen putting on his thick boots.
"Just coming to call you," he said, nodding.

"Harpus five.

Hah! change coming," he cried, stamping his feet in his boots; "rain--rain.

Come along." He unbolted the door and I followed him out, drawing a breath of the sweetly fragrant air as we stepped at once into the bright sunshine, where the flowers were blooming and the trees were putting forth their strength.
But I had no opportunity for looking about the garden, for Mr Solomon led the way at once to the stoke-holes down behind the glass-houses, rattled open the doors, and gave a stoke here with a great iron rod, and a poke there where the fires were caked together; while, without waiting to be asked, I seized upon the shovel I saw handy and threw on some coke.
"Far back as you can, my lad," said Mr Solomon.

"Seems a rum time of year to be having fires; but we're obliged to keep up a little, specially on cloudy days." This done, he led the way into one of the sunken pits where the melons were growing, and after reaching in among them and snipping off a runner or two he routed out a slug and killed it.
Then turning to me: "First thing in gardening, Grant, is to look out for your enemies.
You'll never beat them; all you can do is to keep 'em down.