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Updated: June 19, 2025
Yes, sir, I will," and he began to chuckle, while Tom joined his uncle, who was already on his way to the mill. As Tom reached the lane he was just in time to meet Pete Warboys, who came slouching along with his hands as far down in his pockets as he could reach, his boots, two sizes too large, unlaced, and his dog close behind him.
That object was Pete Warboys, who had suddenly risen up out of the earth, and stood yawning and stretching himself, ending by giving one of his shoulders a good rasp against a fir-tree. "Why, he must have been sleeping there," thought Tom, "and I must have passed close to his hole. What an old fox he is. Hullo! there's the dog."
"Boys are problems. Troublesome young cubs, aren't they, Tom?" "Horrible, uncle," said Tom dryly. "But to begin with: a boy is a boy," said the Vicar firmly, "and he has naturally the seeds of good and evil in him." "Pete Warboys had all the good left out of him," said Uncle Richard. "No, I deny that," said the Vicar decisively.
I won't say as there arn't a lot o' people who talk about 'em, and believe old Mother Warboys when she says they're bad and dangerous, and like to bring evil on the place; but, bless your 'art, sir, there arn't one as would do your uncle harm.
As Tom spoke, his cousin struck a match to light a fresh cigarette; and as he lit up, he became aware of the fact that the long slouching figure of Pete Warboys was there by a tree, watching his act with profound interest.
He found himself talking to David about the lad one day when he was down the garden, and David left off digging potatoes, took a big kidney off one of the prongs of the potato fork, upon which it was impaled, split it in two, and began thoughtfully to polish the tool with the piece he retained. "Do I think as you might make a decent chap out of Pete Warboys, Master Tom, by being kind to him?"
Then it was gone; but another pair of eyes were gazing into his, for Pete Warboys slowly raised himself from where he had crawled to the other side of the furze clump. "Hulloo!" said Pete, with a sneering grin; "got you then, have I? Who gave you leave to come and pick them?"
Didn't I always tell you so?" cried a shrill voice; and Tom looked round, to dimly make out Mother Warboys bending over her grandson, who was now sitting on the grass close under the wall, where he had been placed. "I always said it. His punishment's come at last for all his wicked tricks and evil dealings." "And one in hers too," cried David. "A wicked old sinner! Hold your tongue, will you!"
"I don't want to fight," thought Tom Blount, as he rushed off in pursuit of Pete Warboys, this time with full intention, and not led into it by accident. "Fighting means knocking the skin off one's knuckles, black eyes, nose bleeding, and perhaps getting thrashed. And I may be, for he's a big, strong, heavy fellow, and I don't think I could hit him half hard enough to make him care.
Just then there was another visitor to the cottage in the person of Uncle Richard, while soon after David appeared round the corner, where there was a sharp bend in the lane, having risen and started an hour earlier so as to come round by Mother Warboys', and inquire about the injured lad.
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