“No; what?”
“Pete’ll be coming to-night, as sure as there’s meat in eggs.”
“Think so?” said Tom, who felt a peculiar thrill run through him.
“I’m sure on it, sir. There is a deal o’ fruit left to pick yet, and you and me can do that little job better than Pete Warboys.”
“Let’s go down and watch then.”
“Will you, sir?”
“Yes, David, I’ll come. But don’t go to sleep this time.”
“Nay, I won’t trust you,” said the gardener, laughing softly. “You’ll get hitting at me again instead of at Pete. I arn’t forgetted that swipe you give me that night.”
“Well, you gave it back to me with interest,” said Tom.
“Ay, that’s so, sir; I did. But it wouldn’t do for master to come and find all our late apples gone.”