[Brownsmith’s Boy by George Manville Fenn]@TWC D-Link bookBrownsmith’s Boy CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN 8/16
I can show him where to get some real peat too, if he behaves hisself." The trip to the sand-pit kept all other thoughts out of my head; and though I was packed off to bed at seven for a few hours' rest, Mr Solomon having promised to sit up so as to call me, I don't think I slept much, and at last, when I was off soundly, I jumped up in a fright, to find that the moon was shining full in at my window, and I felt sure that I had overslept myself and that Ike had gone. I had not undressed, only taken off jacket, waistcoat, and boots; and I softly opened my door and stole down in my stocking feet to look at the eight-day clock, when, as I reached the mat, a peculiar odour smote on my senses, and then there was the sound of a fire being tapped gently, and Mrs Solomon said: "I think I'll go and wake him now." "I am awake," I said, opening the door softly, to find the table spread for breakfast, and Mr Solomon in spectacles making up his gardening accounts. "Just coming to call you, my lad," he said.
"Half-past eleven, and Ike has just gone to the stable." "And Shock ?" I said. "The young dog! he has been sleeping up in the hay-loft again.
Ike says he can't keep him at their lodgings." I ran back upstairs and finished dressing, to come down and find that Mr Solomon had taken out two basins of hot coffee and some bread and butter for Ike and Shock, while mine was waiting. "Put that in your pocket, Grant," said Mrs Solomon, giving me a brown paper parcel. "What is it ?" I asked. "Sandwiches.
You'll be glad of them by and by." I took the packet unwillingly, for I was not hungry then, and I thought it a nuisance; for I had no idea then that I was providing myself with that which would save my life in the peril that was to come. It was ten minutes to twelve when I went down to the yard, where all the dogs were standing on their hind legs and straining at their chains, eager to be patted and talked to, and strongly excited at the sight of the horse being put to in the strong, springless cart. They howled and yelped and barked, begging in their way for a run, but they were nearly all doomed to disappointment. "Just going to start without you," cried Ike in his surly way. "No, you were not," I said.
"It isn't time." "'Tis by my watch," he growled as he fastened the chains of the cart harness.
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