“Upon my word!” exclaimed Uncle Richard. “You’re a nice ornament for the home of a simple country gentleman. But Mr Maxted says you gave him a thorough thrashing. Did you? Here, let’s look at your knuckles.”
Tom slowly held out his hands.
“Oh yes,” said his uncle, nodding. “There’s no mistake about that. And so you are going to make a model boy of Pete Warboys, eh?”
“I thought I’d try, uncle,” said Tom bitterly.
“Oh, well, go on boy, go on. You must have beaten the clay quite soft. When are you going to put it in the new mould?”
“I don’t know, uncle,” said Tom. “I expect the next thing will be that Pete will half kill me.”
Chapter Thirty Six.
Tom saw very little more of Pete Warboys. He had slipped away to the fir-wood, and escaping all observation, went straight to the cave; but there was neither boy nor dog, and he left disappointed.