Part 36 (1/2)
He went off grumbling to another part of the garden, and Dexter felt disposed to go back indoors.
”He's watching me all the time,” he thought to himself; ”just as if I was going to steal something. He don't like me.”
Dexter strolled on, and heard directly a regular rustling noise, which he recognised at once as the sound made by a broom sweeping gra.s.s, and sure enough, just inside the great laurel hedge, where a little green lawn was cut off from the rest of the garden, there was Peter Cribb, at his usual pursuit, sweeping all the sweet-scented cuttings of the gra.s.s.
Peter was a sweeper who was always on the look-out for an excuse. He was, so to speak, chained to that broom so many hours a day, and if he had been a galley slave, and the broom an oar, it is morally certain that he would have been beaten with many stripes, for he would have left off rowing whenever he could.
”Well, squire,” he said, laying his hands one over the other on the top of the broom-handle.
”Well, Peter. How's the horse?”
”Grinding his corn, and enjoying himself,” said Peter. ”He's like you: a lucky one--plenty to eat and nothing to do.”
”Don't you take him out for exercise?” said Dexter.
”Course I do. So do you go out for exercise.”
”Think I could ride?” said Dexter.
”Dersay you could, if you could hold on.”
”I should like to try.”
”Go along with you!”
”But I should. Will you let me try!”
Peter shook his head, and began to examine his half-worn broom.
”I could hold on. Let me go with you next time!”
”Oh, but I go at ha'-past six, hours before you're awake. Young gents don't get up till eight.”
”Why, I always wake at a quarter to six,” said Dexter. ”It seems the proper time to get up. I say, let me go with you.”
”Here, I say, you, Peter,” shouted Dan'l; ”are you a-going to sweep that bit o' lawn, or am I to come and do it myself. Gawsiping about!”
”Hear that?” said Peter, beginning to make his broom swing round again.
”There, you'd better be off, or you'll get me in a row.”
Dexter sighed, for he seemed to be always the cause of trouble.
”I say,” said Peter, as the boy was moving off; ”going fis.h.i.+ng again?”
”No; not now.”
”You knows the way to fish, don't you? Goes in after them.”
Dexter laughed, and went on down to the river, examined the place where the branch had broken off, and then gazed down into the clear water at the gliding fish, which seemed to move here and there with no more effort than a wave of the tail.