Come along, pauper." I threw the ball towards him and it fell on the lawn, for neither of the boys tried to catch it.
"Here, you, sir," cried Courtenay furiously, "come and pick up this ball." I glanced at Mr Solomon and did not stir.
"Do you hear, you, sir! come and pick up this ball," said Courtenay.
"Now, pauper, look alive," said Philip.
I turned and stooped down over my work.
"I say, Court, we're not going to stand this, are we ?" "Go into the field and play, boys," said Mr Solomon coldly; "we've got to work." "Yes, paupers have to work," said Courtenay with a sneer.
"If I thought that worth notice, young fellow, I'd make you take that word back," said Mr Solomon sternly.
"Yes, it's all right, Courtenay; the boy isn't a pauper." "You said he was." "Yes, but it was a mistake," sneered Philip; "he says he's a gentleman." The two boys roared with laughter, and Mr Solomon looked red.
"Look here, Grant," he said quietly, "if being a gentleman is to be like these two here, don't you be one, but keep to being a gardener." "Ha, ha, ha!--ho, ho, ho!" they both laughed.

"A gentleman! Pretty sort of a gentleman." "Pauper gentleman," cried Philip maliciously.

"Yes, I daresay he has got a title," said Courtenay, who looked viciously angry at being thwarted; and he was the more enraged because Mr Solomon bent down and helped me at the bed, taking no notice whatever of the orders for me to go.
"Yes," said Philip; "he's a barrow-net--a wheelbarrow-net.

Ha, ha, ha!" "With a potato-fork for his crest." "And ragged coat without any arms," said Philip.
"And his motto is `Oh the poor workhouse boy!'" cried Courtenay.
"There, that will do, Grant," said Mr Solomon.

"Let these little boys amuse themselves.