“I don’t want any old bargain, sir,” Tom cried. “And I’ll take the punishment. I’m—I’m not a baby!”
“Good! Shake hands. Now let us hurry home.”
“Yes, sir, but—just a minute, please.” Tom darted into the wood and came back with his rod and flies. He did not try to conceal them, but he looked sheepishly up into the submaster’s face. This was a study of conflicting emotions. In the end amusement got the better of the others, and he viewed Tom with a broad smile.
“And so there is a pair of us, eh?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” answered Tom. The submaster laughed softly and put one hand companionably upon the boy’s shoulder.
“Pierson,” he said, “suppose you and I agree to reform?”
“All right, sir.”
“No more poaching, eh? After this we’ll stick to our own preserves.”
“Yes, sir. I’m willing if you are.”