That afternoon, and for an hour and a half in the evening, they worked again at the speculum by lamp-light, so that Tom was pretty tired when they gave up and returned to the cottage.
“Going to watch for the fruit burglar to-night, Tom?” asked Uncle Richard.
“Oh yes, uncle. I feel ten times as eager now Mr Maxted’s plums have been stolen;” and, punctual to the moment, he stole down the garden, walking upon the velvety lawn, and advancing so silently upon David, that the gardener uttered a cry of alarm.
“Quite made me jump, Master Tom, coming on me so quiet like.”
“I thought he might be hanging about,” whispered back Tom. “Going to watch from the same place?”
“Ay, sir. Couldn’t be better. Once we hear him at the pears we can drop upon him like two cats on a mouse.”
“Yes,” said Tom; “but we must mind and not scratch ourselves, David.”
“Ay, we’ll take care o’ that, sir. But mind, no talking. Got your stick?”
“I stuck it upright in the second black-currant tree. Yes, here it is.”
“That’s right then, sir. There’s your place, and I’ve got something better for you this time. I stuffed two sacks full o’ hay, and you can sit down now like on a cushion, and pull the horse-cloth you’ll find folded up over you.”