He drew his tobacco-jar towards him, and took down his pipe, carefully filled it, and laid it down again.
“Now, look here,” he said. “I’m a great believer in keeping faith and being true to one another, and looking down with contempt upon a tale-bearer, or one who betrays a secret. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” said Tom, for Dick felt that he could not speak. “You mean, sir, that you don’t like a sneak.”
“That’s it,” said the squire; “but I should have liked to hear you say that, Dick. However, that is what I mean. There are times, though, when lads have been led into connections where things are done of which they are heartily ashamed. They have joined in them from the idea that it was a good bit of fun, or that there was some injustice being perpetrated, and they have, as they think, joined the weaker side. But I want you both to see that in such cases as we have had lately it would be weak and criminal to keep silence from the mistaken notion that it would be cowardly to speak, and betraying friends.”
Dick’s face was scarlet, and his bosom swelled with emotion as he felt choked with indignation at his father suspecting him, while he changed countenance the more as he saw his father watching him keenly. In fact the more innocent Dick strove to look the worse he succeeded, and the squire seemed troubled as he went on.
“Now, my lads, as you are well aware, there are some cowardly outrages being perpetrated from time to time; and I want you to answer me at once—do you either of you know anything whatever about the persons who have done these things?”
“No,” said Tom at once; and the squire turned to Dick.
“Now, my boy,” he said, “why don’t you speak?”
Dick felt as if he would choke, and with his morbid feeling increasing, he said in a husky voice:
“No, father, I do not know anything either.”