Kit and Kitty: A Story of West Middlesex. Blackmore Richard Doddridge

implore a little favour, which the sight of our garden wall sparkling in the sunshine, for it was newly topped with broken glass, suggested by some good luck to me.

      “Oh, if you would only come,” I said, “and see my Uncle’s trees to-morrow! They are at their very best this week, before we begin to gather largely. The pears are hanging down, so that we have had to prop the branches, and the plums are as thick as eggs together, when the hen is sitting; only instead of being pale, some are of the richest gold, and some of a deep purple, like – like that magnificent amethyst you wear; and the peaches on the wall – you might almost compare these to a lady’s cheeks, when a gentleman tells her of her beauty – ”

      “Really, Mr. Orchardson, you are quite a poet!”

      “And when you get tired of looking at them, and tasting the ripest, all you have to do is to come into the vinery, and sit beneath the leaves, and look all along it, wherever the clusters leave any room to look, until you don’t know which you like the best, the appearance of the black or the white ones, because so much depends upon the light. And then Uncle Corny comes with a pair of scissors, and says – ‘Ma’am, that is not the way to look at it. The proof of the pudding is in the eating,’ and he hands you in a vine-leaf, being careful where he cuts it, a jet-black shoulder of Black Hamburgh, and an amber-coloured triplet of White Muscat.”

      “Mr. Orchardson, you are making my mouth water, if a vulgar expression may be allowed to one who eats the bread of servitude.” I wondered to hear her speak thus, though I saw that she had been aggrieved by somebody. “And if you will be at home to-morrow afternoon, perhaps I might obtain permission to leave my mistress for an hour or two. I might walk down about four o’clock, when I have finished all the blacking of the boots.”

      Something with a spiteful tang to it was rankling in her mind, as I perceived; but having no right to ask, I just lifted my hat and gazed at her gold chain and broach. Then a tear or two, started by her own words, came forth, and she looked at me softly.

      “You would add to the favour of your invitation,” she said with a smile which made me look at something else, “if you would include in it Miss Kitty Fairthorn. Poor thing! She is put upon very sadly, and it would be such a treat for her. They see so little of the beauties of nature in London.”

      “I am sure my Uncle will be most happy;” I answered as if I were not sure about myself.

      CHAPTER VII.

      DE GUSTIBUS

      Now my Uncle Cornelius Orchardson (a stout and calm fruit-grower, called in contumely “Corny the topper” by strangers who wanted his growth for nothing) professed and even practised a large contempt for gossip. Nevertheless it was plain enough that his feelings were hurt, if a thing went on, which he was bound in politeness to know, and yet was not offered any tidings of it. With such people it is always wiser, if you have done anything against their wishes, to let them know all the particulars at once; and so to have it out and be done with it. And I was beginning to love him now, which as a boy I had done but little, inasmuch as he never gave way to me. Obstinate as he was, and sometimes hot – if one tried to play tricks with him – I was not much afraid of Uncle Corny, although so dependent upon him. For I knew him to be a just man in the main, and one who kept no magnet of his own to fetch down the balance to his own desires. Yea, rather he would set the beam against himself, when it trembled in doubt of its duty.

      With the hasty conclusions of youth, I believed that because he was now an old bachelor, though able to afford a wife many years ago, he had taken and held to an adverse view of the fairer and better half of the human race. And his frequent counsels to me to keep out of their way confirmed my conviction. The course of time proved that I was wrong in this, as in many other matters of my judgment; and my rule, if I had to begin again, would be to think the best of every man, till he compels me otherwise. But the worst of Uncle Corny was that he never cared to vindicate himself.

      His countenance also was in keeping with this manner, and the build of his body and the habit of his gait. His figure was tall, yet wide and thick, and his face very solid and ample. He had never been comely by line and rule, yet always very pleasant for an honest man to look at, and likely to win the good word of a woman. Because there was strength and decision in his face, and a power of giving full meaning to his words, which were generally short and to the purpose. And especially he was gifted with a very solid nose, not of any Roman or Grecian cast, but broadly English, and expansive, and expressive, and sometimes even waggish when he told an ancient tale.

      Knowing that he would be quite sure to hear of my adventures soon, even if he had not heard already – for Sunbury is a fine place for talk – and trusting to his better feelings (which were always uppermost after a solid supper, when he stirred his glass of hot rum and water, and had his long pipe lit for him), I began upon him that very night with what my mind was full of. For Tabby Tapscott was now gone home, after looking at me rather queerly.

      “What a knowledge of the world you have, Uncle Corny!” I exclaimed at the end of his favourite tale concerning Covent Garden; “your advice must be worth more than the counsel of the cleverest lawyer in London.”

      “More honest at least, and no fee to pay,” he answered rather testily, for he hated all humbug and compliments. “What have you been at, young man? Is it my advice, or my aid, you want?”

      “A little of both; or a lot of one, and a little of the other. I have made the acquaintance of a sweet young lady, the gentlest, and loveliest, and most graceful, and modest, and elegant, and accomplished, and lofty-minded, and noble-hearted, and – and – ”

      “Angelic, angelic is the word, Kit – don’t begrudge it; it saves such a lot of the others.”

      “Yes, angelic,” I replied with firmness; “and even that is not half good enough. You know nothing of such matters, Uncle Corny.”

      “Then what is the use of my advice? You had better go to Tabby Tapscott.”

      This threw me out a little; but I would not be brow-beaten.

      “If you have no wish to hear any more about her, and compare her to an old creature like Tabby, all I can say is that I am sorry for your taste, very sorry for your taste, Uncle Corny.”

      “Well, well, go on, Kit. Let us have it all, while we are about it. Rasp the baker told me something. He has brought down a girl from London who can make short bread and maids of honour. No wonder you fell in love with her.”

      “You may try to provoke me, but you shall not succeed; because you know no better. What will you say when I tell you the young lady is the niece of Miss Coldpepper of Coldpepper Manor?”

      I looked at Uncle Corny with a glance of triumph; and then stood up, to breathe again, after my own audacity. But instead of being terrified, he took it very coolly.

      “Well, a cat may look at a king,” said he, pursuing his pipe with his usual discretion; “and I suppose you have only looked at her; though somebody said you pulled her out of our watercress brook.”

      “Sir, I have had two delightful talks with her; and I mean to have another to-morrow. Not that I have any hope – of course, I am well aware – ”

      “That you are unworthy to worship her shoe-string, and lie down for her peg-heels to tread on. If she likes you, I don’t see why you shouldn’t have her. By-and-by, I mean, when you get a little wiser. But has the girl got any money?”

      “I hope not; I hope not, from the bottom of my heart. It would be yet another obstacle. She is as high above me, as the heaven is above the earth, without – without even a penny in her pockets.”

      “Flies all the higher, because her pockets are so light.” He spoke with a jocosity, which appeared to me most vulgar. “Don’t look as if you longed to knock me over, Kit. By the way, I heard that you had floored Sam Henderson. If so, you deserve the best maid that ever looked into a looking-glass. What do you want me to do, my lad? I know a little of those people.”

      I wondered what people he meant, but feared to ask him for the moment, lest I might lose the chance of getting the favour I had set my heart on. “It is a very simple thing,” I said, “and need