Tommy Wideawake Part 16

Tommy wandered disconsolately down the flagged path between the bushes, ruminating upon the strange contrariness of affairs on this chequered afternoon.

Near the arbour in the laurels Miss Gerald met him.

Her eyes were dancing.

"O, Tommy, you celestial boy," she cried.

Tommy was doubtful of the adjective, but the tone was certainly one of approbation, and he looked modestly at the path.

"You're a perfect young angel," proceeded Miss Gerald, enthusiastically, "and I'd kiss you only I suppose you wouldn't like it."

Tommy looked at her, dubiously.

"I shouldn't very much," he observed, but chivalry stepped manfully to the fore, and he turned a brown cheek towards her.

"You can if you like, you know," he added, looking resignedly across the valley.

She stooped and dropped a kiss upon his cheek.

"You're the very broth of a boy," she said, as she ran back to the house.

Presently the laurels rustled, and the poet stole out into the pathway.

Tommy was disappearing into a sidewalk, and the poet looked after him with a curious expression.

"O you incomprehensible person," said he.

IX

IN WHICH TOMMY CLIMBS A STILE

"You daren't climb into the hay-loft."

"Daren't I?" said Tommy, scornfully. "You see if I don't." And he shinned easily up the ladder.

The hay-loft was cool and fragrant--a welcome contrast to the glaring yard.

"Come up too," said Tommy.

Madge's black eyes flashed.

"I will," she said, clambering up the steps.

Tommy stooped down and gave her a hand.

"Good girl," he said, approvingly. Then he laid his hand on her lips, and they crouched back into the shade.

For into the barn stepped one of the farm labourers.

"We mustn't get found out, for the man here is an awful beast of a chap," said Tommy, in a low whisper.

The labourer had not perceived them and was soon bent over a machine chopping up fodder for the cattle.

His back was towards them, and he breathed heavily, for the work was hard. His red neck formed a tempting target, and Tommy was an accurate shot. Moreover, his pockets were full of peas.

He took a careful aim and let fly, and there was a hoa.r.s.e exclamation from the man at the wheel.

Tommy drew back into shelter, where Madge was curled up in the new hay.

"Got him rippingly," said Tommy, "plumb in the back of the neck."

Madge looked a little reproachful.

"O Tommy, it must have hurt him dreadfully."

Tommy chuckled.

"'Spect it did tickle him a bit," he said, looking cautiously round the corner.

The man had resumed work and the hum of the wheel filled the barn.

Tommy selected another portion of the man's anatomy and let fly a little harder.

There was a shout and a sound of muttered exclamation in the barn below them, as Tommy backed into the hay with quiet enjoyment.

As they listened they could hear the man stumping round the barn, swearing softly, and presently he was joined by some one else, for a loud voice broke into his grumbling.

"What the d.i.c.kens are you doing, Jake?"

"Darned if I know," said the man. "On'y there bees summat as. .h.i.ts I unnever I goes at the wheel, master."

"That's the farmer himself just come in," said Tommy burrowing deeper into the hay.

They could hear him speaking.

"Get on wi' your work, Jake, an' don't get talkin' your nonsense to me, man."

The man grumbled.

"Darned if it are nonsense, master," he said. "Just you wait till you be hit yoursen--right in the bark o' your neck, too."

"O Tommy, do hit him--the farmer I mean."

Tommy shook his head.