entle like, so as it falls in your hand ready to be laid
in a basket o' leaves proper to go into the house. You can take 'em
then; it makes you smile and feel a kind o' pleasure in 'em, because
they're ripe. But I'd sooner grow none than see 'em tore off when
they're good for nowt. I didn't see 'em go, Master Tom, but four o' my
chyce Maria Louisas has been picked, and I wouldn't insult you, sir, by
even thinking it was you. It wasn't Pete Warboys, because he ain't left
his trail. Who was it, then, if it wasn't your fine noo cousin?"

Tom said nothing, but thought of the hard green pears Sam had thrown at
Pete Warboys.

"Just you look here, Master Tom," continued the gardener, leading the
way to the wall. "There's where one was tore off, and a big bit o'
shoot as took two year to grow, fine fruit-bearing wood, but he off with
it. Yes, there it is," he cried, pouncing upon a newly-broken-off twig,
"just as I expected. There's where the pear was broke off arterward,
leaving all the stalk on. Why, when that pear had been fit to pick,
sir, it would have come off at that little jynt as soon as you put your
hand under it and lifted it up. Why, I've know'd them pears, sir, as
good as say thankye as soon as they felt your hand under 'em, for they'd
growed too ripe and heavy to hang any longer. Dear, dear, dear, who'd
be a gardener?"

"You would, David," said Tom, smiling. "Never mind; it's very tiresome,
and he ought to have known better, if it was my cousin."

"Knowed better, sir? Why, you'd ha' thought a fine chap like he,
dressed up to the nines with his shiny boots and hat, and smoking his
'bacco wrapped up in paper, instead of a dirty pipe, would ha' been
eddicated up to everything. There, sir, it's Sunday mornin', and I'm
goin' to church by-and-by, so I won't let my angry passions rise; but if
that young gent's coming here much, I shall tell master as it's all over
with the garden, for I sha'n't take no pride in it no more."

"And that isn't the worst of it," thought Tom; "throwing those pears at
Pete was telling him that we had plenty here on the walls, and tempting
him to come."

That day passed in a wearisome way to Tom. At church Sam swaggered in,
and took his place after a haughty glance round, as if he were favouring
the congregation by his condescension in coming. Then on leaving, when
Mr Maxted bustled up to ask after Uncle Richard, fearing that he was
absent from illness, till he heard that