here was a head just peeping over the wall."

"A stranger?"

"I couldn't quite see, sir; but I'm 'most ready to swear as it was Pete
Warboys, looking to see if they was ready to go into his pockets."

"Then let's pick them at once," cried Tom.

"Dear lad, what is the use o' my teaching of you," said David
reproachfully. "Don't I keep on telling o' you as they'd srivel up; and
what's a pear then? It ain't as if it was a walnut, where the srivel's
a ornyment to the shell."

"Then let's lie wait for my gentleman with a couple o' sticks."

David's wrinkled face expanded, and his eyes nearly-closed.

"Hah! Now you're talking sense, sir," he said, in a husky whisper, as
if the idea was too good to be spoken aloud. "Hazel sticks, sir--thick
'uns?"

"Hazel! A young scoundrel!" cried Tom.

"Nay, he's an old 'un, sir, in wickedness."

"Hazel is no good. I'd take old broomsticks to him," cried Tom
indignantly. "Oh, I do hate a thief."

"Ay, sir, that comes nat'ral, 'speshly a thief as comes robbin' of a
garden. House-breakers and highwaymen's bad enough; but a thief as come
a-robbin' a garden, where you've been nussin' the things up for years
and years--ah! there's nothing worse than that."

"You've got some old birch brooms, David," cried Tom, without committing
himself to the gardener's sentiments.

"Birch, sir? Tchah! Birch would only tickle him, even if we could hit
him on the bare skin."

"Nonsense! I didn't mean the birch, I meant the broomsticks."

"Oh, I see!" said David. "But nay, nay, sir, that wouldn't do. You
see, when a man's monkey's up he hits hard; and if you and me ketched
Pete Warboys over in our garden, and hit as hard as we could, we might
break him; and though I says to you it wouldn't be a bit o' consequence,
that there old rampagin' witch of a granny of his would come up here
cursing every one, and making such filliloo that there'd be no bearing
it."

"Well, that wouldn't harm anybody."

"I dunno, sir; I dunno," said David thoughtfully.

"Why, David, you don't believe in witches and ill-wishing, and all that
sort of stuff, do you?"

"Me, sir?" cried the gardener; "not likely. But it's just as well to be
the safe side o' the hedge, you know, in case there might be something
in it."

Tom laughed, and David shook his head solemnly.

"Why, I believe you do believe in it all," said Tom.

"Nay, sir, I don't," cried the old fellow indignantly; "and don't you go
saying such