"No," returned he, pushing his hat back and looking up at the distressed lady.
Now Tommy was guilty of so many mischievous doings that when anything went wrong about the place he was always suspected of being in the plot somewhere, though sometimes he was truly innocent, as happened to be the case just now.
"No," he repeated, "I haven't touched a single one of the yellow pears. Honor bright!"
"Then some one else has," declared Mrs. Gainsborough. "For three days, since they have been ripening so beautifully, I have tried to find enough to fill a fancy basket for the dean; and although each evening I have seen ten or twelve that would be perfect in another day, I have gone the following morning to gather them, and have found only hard and green ones hanging. The other children know nothing about it, so I suppose some one has stolen the pears. It is too provoking!"
Mrs. Gainsborough turned away, and her son went on with his digging, giving no further thought to the missing fruit.
The next morning he awoke very early, so early that the great red sun was just peeping over the hill. He turned drowsily on his pillow and was preparing to launch into another delicious nap, when it occurred to him that sunrise was a capital time for the drawing of shadows.
Instantly he scrambled out of bed, and five minutes later was on his way through the orchard with his sketch-book under his arm.
Dew lay thickly upon the grass and leaves, and even the ruddy fruit hanging overhead sparkled brightly as the first rays of the sun shone upon its clinging drops.
"Now for the shadows," thought Tommy, glancing about the orchard. "I think I'll draw that clump of currant bushes, if I can get a good position."
He walked up and down several times, trying to find a place where his view would be unobstructed. This was no easy matter amid so many trees, but at length he found that by sitting inside the entrance of an old rustic summer-house he could command his model exactly.