More smoking, and the pipe of tobacco burned out.
“No, I won’t tell Tom,” said the big fellow. “If I did he wouldn’t believe me, and it would only make him and Polly miserable too, and I don’t want to do that. I tell you what—if I see Master Serrol go down there again when Tom’s out of the way I’ll pretty well break his neck.”
He uttered a low chuckling laugh as he lay prone there, catching sight now of the robin, and chirruping to it as it watched him from its perch.
“Pretty Dick!” he said. “Going up to London, are they? All right! Anywheres’ll do for me, parson. I wonder whether Serrol and Frank’ll go too.”
Jock Morrison did not pretty well break Cyril’s neck, for a very few days after Mr Paulby had the full management of Lawford Church again, the family at the rectory being once more in town.
“It is worse for the boys,” said the Rector, “but it will keep Cyril away from her. I must get him something to do.”