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The boy stopped short with his heart beating, to find Mr Maxted seated upon a stump in the side of the fir-wood, evidently enjoying the glorious sunset tints spreading from the horizon nearly to the zenith. "I I didn't see you, sir," faltered Tom. "Of course you did not, or you wouldn't have gone by. What a lovely sunset! Why, my good lad, whatever have you been doing?"
And at the touch the injured, delirious lad grew calmer, to drop off into his feverish sleep again, while, when Tom came early the next morning, it was to meet the doctor coming away. "Don't go in," he said; "you can do no good; quiet and time are the only remedies for him. Ah, good-morning, Mr Maxted." For the Vicar was up early too, and had come to see after his worst parishioner.
I detest pitiful prevarication, sir," cried the Vicar warmly. "The knife was dropped by whoever it was stripped the wall of my golden drops last night. There, take your knife, sir, I have altered my intentions. I did mean to speak to your uncle." "What about?" said Uncle Richard, who had come up unheard in the excitement. "Good-morning, Maxted. Any one's cow dead? Subscription wanted?"
"Mrs Fidler could put me right." "Yes, my dear," cried the housekeeper; "but you never will let me." "Well, who's going to take prune tea or brimstone and treacle because he has been knocked down?" "There, Mrs Fidler, you hear," said Uncle Richard; "we have had a narrow escape, but I don't think any of us are much the worse. We only want rest. Take the couch, Maxted, and lie down."
You behaved very pluckily, but it was a great risk to run. Then you have not made it known?" "No, uncle. David knows, of course, but I gave him strict orders not to say a word." "And he has not spoken?" "No, uncle, I think not." "Good! But you have not spoken to Mr Maxted?" "No, uncle. I thought you ought to be the first to hear." "Quite right, Tom.
"You're a nice ornament for the home of a simple country gentleman. But Mr Maxted says you gave him a thorough thrashing. Did you? Here, let's look at your knuckles." Tom slowly held out his hands. "Oh yes," said his uncle, nodding. "There's no mistake about that. And so you are going to make a model boy of Pete Warboys, eh?" "I thought I'd try, uncle," said Tom bitterly.
Uncle Richard shook his head, and the vicar shook his hand. Then as he went through the same process with Tom, he said "Glad to know you; I'm sure we shall be very good friends;" and then he hurried away, and the others closed the gate and went into the workshop, where the speculum was waiting to be ground. "You'll like Mr Maxted," said Uncle Richard quietly.
"You, David, take the axe and lop off a few of the branches that will be in our way; you, carpenter, saw off three or four of these roots as closely as you can; Tom, keep the hole open; Mr Maxted, keep the dog out of the way; I'll make fast the ropes."
"And some people say that the army's a bad school," said Mr Maxted that night at dinner, when Uncle Richard and Tom were spending the evening at the Vicarage. "If they would only do for all rough young men what they have done for Pete Warboys, it would be a grand thing. But I always did have hopes of him, eh, Tom?" "Ah," said Uncle Richard, "it's a long lane that has no turning."
Get some recruiting serjeant to carry him off for raw material to turn into a soldier." "Hopeless," said the Vicar. "Too loose and shambling. As it is, metaphorically, every one throws stones at the lad; no one ever gives him a kind word." "No, but who can? I'm afraid you must give him up, Maxted, as a hopeless case." "I will not," said the Vicar firmly.
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