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Updated: June 19, 2025
"Here it is at last," said Tom to himself, after following, as he thought, exactly the course he had taken when he chased Pete Warboys for throwing stones at the bath-chair, and coming upon a rugged portion of the fir-wood. "Bother!
"And he felt like that there Pete Warboys, didn't he?" "Yes no I don't know," said Tom confusedly; and David scratched his head. "That's like asking a man a riddle, sir," he said. "Can't make much o' that." "Well, what can I say, David?" cried Tom impatiently. "It was pitch dark, and I was thinking of nothing else but catching him. I could see nothing but the dim-looking windows."
There are others, of course the Red Lion at Henley; the old Warboys hostelry at Cookham; the Angler at Marlowe; the French Horn across the black water and within rifle-shot of the White Hart a most pretentious place, designed for millionnaires and spendthrifts, where even chops and tomato-sauce, English pickles, chowchow and the like, ales in the wood and other like commodities and comforts, are dispensed at prices that compel all impecunious, staid painters like myself to content themselves with a sandwich and a pint of bitter and a hundred other inns along the river, good, bad, and indifferent.
But the days glided by; and Tom had so much to think of that he saw nothing of Pete Warboys' games, and he could hardly believe it possible when summer came again. "From your cousin," said Uncle Richard, opening one of his letters, his face gradually growing very stern and troubled as he read; while as he finished and raised his eyes, he found that Tom was watching him intently.
At last there came a letter saying that he would not be back yet, but that he hoped Tom would complete a perfect plane mirror before his return, as he still thought they might do better, and get a truer image of the faint stars; so, forgetting all about Pete Warboys and his dog, Tom worked away as busily as if his uncle were at his elbow.
I've just come from old Mother Warboys' cottage." "And how is the old witch?" "Ah, poor, prejudiced old soul, much the same as ever. I'm afraid she is beyond alteration, but her grandson was there." "Humph! And he's beyond mending too," said Uncle Richard gravely. "Ah, there's the rub," said the Vicar, crossing his legs, and clasping his hands about the upper knee.
If you could cut him right down the thick part below his knees, which you couldn't do, 'cause he arn't got no thick part, for them shambling legs of his are like pipe-shanks " "What are you talking about, David?" said Tom merrily. "Pete Warboys, Master Tom.
"Don't do to slander your neighbours; but if you was to say it was old Mother Warboys' hulking grandson, I wouldn't be so rude as to contradick you; not as I say it is, mind you, but I've knowed that chap ever since he was a dirty little gipsy whelp of a thing, and I never yet knowed him take anything as was out of his reach." Tom laughed.
"Morning, Tom, lad; I'm afraid you were right about the iron." "Yes, uncle; and I found who stole it. I traced it to one of the cottages," and he related his experience. "Ah!" he said; "so you've fallen foul of old Mother Warboys. You don't believe in witches, do you, Tom?" "No, uncle, of course not; but she's a horrible old woman."
There oh oh oh! Go steady." "All right, uncle," said Tom; and he pushed on steadily enough right along the lane where he had chased Pete Warboys not so long before.
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