“Yes, sir, and tell old Jellard to put a chain and padlock on it, or else there’s no knowing what may happen.”
So after deciding to leave the old bureau just as it was until his uncle had examined and seen what was missing, and noting that it had been opened by means of some kind of chisel inserted just above the keyhole, Tom locked up, and then held the gate open for David to carry the ladder he had shouldered home.
“Nyste sort of a job, Master Tom,” he said, “clearing up the bits arter robbers and thieves; but there—you never knows what you may come to in this life.”
The next moment Tom had to duck his head to avoid a blow as the ladder was swung round; and that morning Mrs Fidler, who knew nothing of what had happened, took Tom aside directly after breakfast.
“I beg your pardon, Master Tom,” she began, and the boy stared; “I didn’t notice it before we begun, but I do now, and as master’s out it makes me feel anxious. You’re not well, sir.”
“Oh yes, quite well,” said Tom hastily.
“No, sir, you can’t deceive me. But I know it’s only natural for young people to say so. Physic isn’t nice, sir, but it’s very necessary sometimes, and if you would be advised by me you’d let me give you something this morning. Better late than never, sir.”
“What, me take some medicine?” cried Tom. “Nonsense! I’m quite right.”
Mrs Fidler shook her head.
“Take which you like, sir; I’ve got them both in my store closet. A tablespoonful of castor oil—”