“Young man,” said the squire, sternly, and in tones that were intended to make a deep impression upon the mind of the young man, “your time has come.”
The squire paused, and looked at the culprit to ascertain the effect of the startling announcement; but Tom seemed to be perfectly cool, and was not annihilated by the suggestive remark of the great man of Pinchbrook.
“You have become a midnight marauder,” added the squire, poetically.
“It isn’t seven o’clock yet,” said Tom pointing to the great wooden clock in the corner of the room.
“You joined a mob to pillage and destroy the property of a peaceable citizen. You broke in—”
“No, sir; the cellar door broke in,” interposed the culprit.
“You broke into my house to set it afire!” continued the squire, in a rage.
“No, sir, I did not. I only went round there to see the fun,” replied Tom, pointing to the rear of the house; “and the cellar door broke down and let me in. I did not mean to do you or your house any harm; and I didn’t do any, except breaking the cellar door, and I will have that mended.”
“Don’t tell me, you young villain! You meant to burn my house.”
“No, I didn’t mean any thing of the kind,” replied Tom, stoutly. “I was going off when the door broke down. The boards were rotten, and I should think a man like you ought to have better cellar doors than those are.”