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Updated: June 19, 2025
"Waxashus is nothing to it, sir. I tell you what it is, sir: it's made me wicked, that it has. There's them times when I've been going to church o' Sundays, and seen that there Pete Warboys and two or three other boys a-hanging about a corner waiting till everybody's inside to go and get into some mischief.
Come, I'll help you, for I'm afraid I think as you do you fancy it was your cousin Sam?" Tom nodded quickly. "Why?" Tom tightened his lips as if saying, "I won't speak," but his uncle's eyes were searching him, and in a slow, faltering way he said "I don't think Pete Warboys would break in here to steal valuable papers, uncle." "No; it hardly seems likely, Tom. Go on."
How dare you come cursing here when your poor neighbours are in trouble!" "I I I don't care I will say it," cried Mother Warboys. "You dare to say another word, and you shall have no dole next Sunday," cried the Vicar angrily. "I I don't care; I say it's come home to him at last. I always said it would." "Yes, you wicked old creature; and in spite of your vanity you are not a prophetess.
All the same though, by the time the tree was fast the sand had been swept from Pete Warboys' face; and David and Uncle Richard stooping and passing their hands beneath him, very little effort was required to draw him right out of the hole, and up among the pine-trees, where he was laid gently down, amid a profound silence, while Uncle Richard knelt beside him, and the dog, after a furious volley of barks, began to snuffle at its master's face.
I won't 'cuse nobody; but what I do say is this, that if ever I'm down the garden with a rake or hoe-handle in my hand, and Pete Warboys comes over the wall, I'll hit him as hard as I can, and ask master afterwards whether I've done right." "David," said Tom eagerly, "how soon will the pears be ripe?"
"Yes, and the simple folk about here believe in her as something no canny, as the Scotch call it. So you think it was Master Pete Warboys, do you?" "Yes, uncle, I feel sure it was; and if you sent a policeman at once, I dare say he would find the bag of iron." "Hardly likely, Tom; they would have got rid of it before he came there if I did send one, which I shall not do." "Not send for stealing?"
But Sam glanced at his bright Oxford shoes and well-cut trousers, and stood fast, while a malignant grin began to spread over Pete Warboys' face, as the dog cowered shivering behind him, with its thin tail tucked between its legs.
"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."
I say, if you could cut him down like that, and then graft in a couple o' scions took of a young gent as I knows never you mind who bind 'em up neatly, clay 'em up, or do the same thing somewheres about his middle, you might grow a noo boy, as'd bear decent sort o' fruit. But you can't do that; and Pete Warboys 'll be Pete Warboys as long as he lives."
I know you all parson and doctor, and you, Brandon, you're all against my poor innocent boy; but you're not going to hurt him, for you've got me to reckon with first." "Your sight and hearing seem to have come back pretty readily, Mrs Warboys." "You never mind that," cried the old woman. "I know what I'm saying, and I'm not afraid of any of you."
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