Brother Solomon

"Oh! as to that," said Brother Solomon, "we're not much. We do the best
we can."

"Horticultural medals, gold and bronze," said Old Brownsmith, smiling.
"There!--you'll have to do so as well, Grant, my lad--you will have to
do me credit."

I crept close to him and half-whispered: "But must I go, sir?"

"Yes, my lad, it is for your benefit," he said rather sternly; and I
suppose I gave him such a piteous look that his face softened a little
and he patted my shoulder. "Come," he said, "you must be a man!"

I seemed to have something in my throat which I was obliged to swallow;
but I made an effort, and after a trial or two found that I could speak
more clearly.

"Shall I have to go soon, sir?"

"Yes: now," said Old Brownsmith.

"Not till I've had a look round," said Brother Solomon in a slow
meditative way, as he took out a handkerchief and wiped his hands,
staring about him at the trees and bushes, and then, as a cat gave a
friendly rub against his leg, he stooped down after the fashion of his
brother, picked it up, and held it on his arm, stroking it all the time.

I had not liked the look of Brother Solomon, for he seemed cold, and
quiet, and hard. His face looked stiff, as if he never by any chance
smiled; and it appeared to me as if I were going from where I had been
treated like a son to a home where I should be a stranger.