It was Tom who understood and dashed through the gate at the far end of the orchard. In five minutes Nobbles was given into his hand, and a seraphic smile lit up his face as he hugged his treasure. His uncle did not smile. He sat down on one of the lowest limbs of the apple-tree and lit up his pipe.
'Is Nobbles fond of going off upon expeditions on his own account?' he asked gravely.
'Well, I hope he doesn't,' rejoined Bobby mysteriously. 'But I have my suspecs of him, acause I always make him sleep with his head on my pillow close to me, and two mornings I've found him on the floor, and once under the bed.'
'Ah,' said his uncle, shaking his head at Nobbles, 'I would quite believe it of him. You'll promise not to give him too hard a thrashing if I tell you where he was last night. He came into my room and had a fight with my old cricket bat. He got the worst of it, and went back to your nursery to get some help. He brought along a ninepin, and they fought two against one; the poor ninepin was nearly done for, and he rolled away under the bed and fainted. Then Nobbles slunk off and left him in the lurch. And this morning the young villain thinks he will play me a trick, so he put two marbles in my boots. He must have done that in the early hours before you were awake!'
Bobby's face was a study. Delight, horror, and confusion was depicted on it. He looked at Nobbles thoughtfully, then he announced:
'I didn't reely fight the cricket bat, I only felt him!'
'But I am talking of Nobbles.'
'He is wicked sometimes,' said Bobby, eyeing him wistfully, 'but I didded it all mine self to you.'
Then his uncle gave a hearty laugh.
'You and I are going to chum up,' he said, lifting him on the bough by his side. 'Now tell me more. I want to know you and Nobbles.'