"Very good," said Tom; "but hands off, you know. I'll go with you quietly, so no collaring or that sort of thing."
Keeper looked at him a minute—"Werry good," said he, at last; and so Tom descended, and wended his way drearily by the side of the keeper up to the School-house, where they arrived just at locking-up. As they passed the School-gates, the Tadpole and several others who were standing there caught the state of things, and rushed out, crying, "Rescue!" but Tom shook his head, so they only followed to the Doctor's gate, and went back sorely puzzled.
How changed and stern the Doctor seemed from the last time that Tom was up there, as the keeper told the story, not omitting to state how Tom had called him blackguard names. "Indeed, sir," broke in the culprit, "it was only Velveteens." The Doctor only asked one question.
"You know the rule about the banks, Brown?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then wait for me to-morrow, after the first lesson."
"I thought so," muttered Tom.
"And about the rod, sir?" went on the keeper. "Master's told we as we might have all the rods—"
"Oh, please, sir," broke in Tom, "the rod isn't mine." The Doctor looked puzzled, but the keeper, who was a good-hearted fellow, and melted at Tom's evident distress, gave up his claim. Tom was flogged next morning, and a few days afterward met Velveteens, and presented him with a half a crown for giving up the rod claim, and they became sworn friends; and I regret to say that Tom had many more fish from under the willow that May-fly season, and was never caught again by Velveteens.