“And so you don’t like the law, Tom?”
The boy started, for there was a different ring in the voice now. It sounded as if it were inviting his confidence, and he was about to speak, when his elder went on—
“To be sure, yes; you told me so last time I saw you.”
“I have tried, sir, very hard,” said Tom apologetically; “but it seems as if my brains are not of the right shape to understand it.”
“Humph, perhaps not,” said his uncle, gazing at him searchingly; and Tom coloured visibly, for it seemed to him that those penetrating eyes must be reading the secret he was keeping. “And you don’t like your cousin Sam either?”
Tom was silent for a few moments.
“Why don’t you answer my question, sir?”
“I was thinking, uncle, that it is Cousin Sam who does not like me.”
“How can he when you knock him down, and then dash china vases at him, sir?”
“I suppose I did knock him down, uncle, but not until he had kicked and struck me. Throw vases at him!” cried the boy indignantly; “I wouldn’t be such a coward.”