“As hard as I could, sir,” I replied innocently.
“Hah! aha! That’s right. Young scoundrels. Spoilt a basket of pears that were not ripe. Young dogs! I’ll put glass bottles all along the walls, and see how they like that. There, be off to bed.”
I hesitated.
“Well,” he said, “what is it?”
“You don’t think it was I who went to steal the pears, sir?” I said uneasily.
“My good boy, no!” he said. “Pooh! nonsense! Looked like it at first. Caught you dirty-handed. Good night!”
He turned away, and I ran into the yard, where Shock was slowly going back to his hole in the straw.
“Good night, Shock!” I said.
He stopped without turning round, and did not reply. It was as if the sulky morose fit had come over him again, but it did not last, for he half turned his head and said:
“I hit one on ’em such a crack on the nut.”