"The young rascal shall tell me where she is, or I will break his head. I will teach him that he can't trifle with me, if he can with you," replied Tom, in snappish tones.
"You will defeat your own purposes. Where is Ernest now?"
"In his room; and I locked him in," answered Tom, with a kind of chuckle, indicating that he thought he had done a big thing.
"Locked him in!" exclaimed my uncle. "How long do you suppose he will stay there?"
"Till I choose to let him out," said Tom, who still appeared to be very well satisfied with himself.
"I think not. There are two windows in the room, and when he gets ready to leave he will do so. You seem to think the boy is a fool. Very likely he has taken the alarm by this time, and has gone off to look out for the girl, if he has hidden her in this vicinity."
"Do you suppose he has gone?" asked Tom; and his tones indicated his perplexity.
"I don't know; but you can't do anything till daylight, and I want to talk with you about our affairs."
"Confound your affairs!" ejaculated Tom, petulantly. "I can't stop to-night to talk about them. I came after the girl, and I must have her too."
"Thomas, I can no longer endure this wasting anxiety," continued my uncle, solemnly. "This boy haunts me by day and by night. I seldom sleep an hour at a time. For your sake I am suffering all this; but you are cold, distant, and harsh to me."