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Updated: May 21, 2025
"Yah!" Tom felt indignant. "Get down off that wall, sir!" he cried. This roused Pete Warboys, who, as the daring outlaw of Furzebrough, desired to play his part manfully, especially so since he was on the other side of the said wall; and, wrinkling up his snub nose, he cried "She-arn't! 'Tain't your wall." "Get down!" cried Tom fiercely. "Get down yerself. Who are you, I should like to know?"
But this opinion was soon shaken as they went on, for he was questioned very shrewdly about his cousin and all that had passed between them, till all at once his companion held out his hand. "Shake hands, Tom, my boy. We are just entering Furzebrough parish, and I want to say this: You came to me with an execrable character " "Yes, uncle; I'm very sorry." "Then I'm not, my lad.
No, he would not do that. It must be some one in the village, and if he could find out who, that would be enough, and he could tell his uncle in the morning. Tom had only been a short time at Furzebrough, but it was long enough to make him know many of the people at sight, and, in spite of the darkness, he fancied that he would be able to recognise the marauder if he could get near enough.
Then, after picking out a suitable train, he paid his bill with one of his father's sovereigns, called a cab, and had himself driven to the terminus, where he took his ticket for the station beyond Furzebrough Road, and soon after was on his way down into the wild part of Surrey.
I've knowed Furzebrough man and boy ever since I was born, and there arn't a soul in it as'd go and get that ladder and break in and steal your uncle's contrapshums.
The station-master's house was covered with roses and clematis, and he and the porters were evidently famous gardeners in their loneliness, for there was not a house near, the board up giving the name of the station as Furzebrough Road. "Shall I take the luggage, sir?" said a man, touching his hat; and at the same moment Tom caught sight of a solitary fly standing outside the railings.
"That was some 'un artful, sir, and he got in." "Slipped in descending inside, and dragged the speculum on the floor," said Uncle Richard, frowning. "Now the question is, who was it?" "Ah, who was it, sir?" said David. "Arn't such a great many folk in Furzebrough, and I should say as it lies between Parson Maxted and Pete Warboys, and it warn't parson, 'cause of the boots."
He had found the station beyond Furzebrough quite seven miles from the village, and being a perfectly fresh route to him, it had seemed twice as far; while the fact that he wished to keep his visit a profound secret forced him to refrain from asking questions as to the way, after being instructed by the station-master at the first.
I'm not a good man, only an overbearing, nigger-driving old indigo planter, who likes to have his own way in everything. Now then, old lady, out with it. I like to hear what the fools tattle about me; and besides, I want Tom here to know what sort of a character I have in Furzebrough." "I I'd really rather not say, sir.
His manner was more menacing than ever, and Tom was beginning to feel that he would be compelled to place himself upon his defence, and signalise his coming to Furzebrough with another encounter, when, faintly-heard, came the striking of a church clock, borne on the soft morning breeze, arousing Tom to the fact that he must be a good way on towards an hour's walk back to his uncle's, and bringing up memories of his punctuality.
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