“Ah! but I’m sure it was them,” said Sam.
“Hush! Sam,” said Mr Inglis; “and now leave the room. I’ll investigate the affair after breakfast.”
Sam left the room anything but pleased, for he thought that he ought to have been praised for his energy, and so he told Cook in the kitchen when he went through, and then stopped and told her all about it; when Cook declared it was a shame, and gave Sam a cup of tea to mollify him, for Cook and Mary were just having breakfast. As soon as Sam had closed the door, Mr Inglis turned to his sons, and asked them if they knew anything about the tree, or who was likely to have taken the walnuts; for in this quiet district an act of theft was of such rare occurrence, that it caused great excitement; besides which, Mr Inglis was deservedly so well respected by the poor people round, that, sooner than touch anything belonging to him, they would have formed themselves into special constables to protect his property.
But neither Harry nor Philip could give the slightest information, so the breakfast was finished, and, in the course of the day, Mr Inglis had his suspicions directed towards the scapegrace son of an old woman in the village. This young man had been employed in the neighbouring town, but for a most flagrant act had been tried, and sentenced to five years’ penal servitude. He was at this time at home upon what is called a “ticket of leave;” that is, he had a portion of his sentence remitted for good conduct in prison, and he was now in the village. But Mr Inglis was averse to proceed upon suspicion; in fact, he was averse to punishing the culprit at all, even if he brought the theft home to him; and therefore he took no steps in the matter.
Two nights after, a quantity of the walnuts were again stolen; and on Mr Inglis being informed of this new attack upon his crop, he told Sam that he would have them all thrashed on the following day, and place them under lock and key.
“Hum!” said Sam to himself; “and then they’ll have a go at the apples. I knows it’s them youngsters. Now, then,” he said, for Harry and Philip just came up in the midst of the old man’s soliloquy, “now, then, where’s all them nuts?”
“Get out,” said Harry, “we never touched them. But it’s no use to tell such an old unbeliever as you are. We didn’t touch them; did we, Phil?”
Phil followed his brother’s example, and strenuously denied the impeachment; but Sam would not be convinced, and went muttering and grumbling away to his work, while Philip stood with tears in his eyes, for he could not bear the idea of his word being doubted. Harry did not mind it much; but Philip was obliged to go behind the large clump of laurustinus and pull out his handkerchief and blow his nose a great deal, and wipe the eyes that would brim over.
“What’s the matter, Philip?” said his father, who had come up unobserved.
Philip could not speak for a moment, for the tears would come faster, and a round sob seemed to stick in his throat, and would not go either up or down. At last, however, he told his father the cause of his tears; and Mr Inglis was very angry, saying that he would not have the honour of his boys doubted, for he had perfect reliance in their word, knowing that they had always been truthful; and therefore he would not have another word said about the walnuts; and the consequence was, that Mr Sam came in for a very sharp reprimand that morning; but, for all that, he looked at the boys the next half-hour, when he met them, as much as to say, “I know you got the walnuts,” though he did not say so.