Tommy Wideawake Part 20

"What do you mean?"

She pointed to the window!

Tommy was in his night-shirt, with the white rat running over his shoulders.

"Well?"

"Master Tommy, sir. There's a-many 'ave noticed it; don't let 'im get friends wi'----"

"With whom?"

Even in the dusk I could see the dull crimson creep into her cheeks.

"Squire Morris's son," she muttered.

We stood silent and face to face for a minute.

"You understand, sir?"

I remembered, and held out my hand.

"Yes, Liza; I understand. Thank you."

"Good night, sir."

"Good night."

She ran, with light footsteps, down the lane, and I stood alone beneath the poplars.

Far up into the deepening sky they reached, like still black sentinels, and between them glimmered a few early stars. In his bedroom I could see Tommy, holding the white rat in one hand and kneeling a moment at his very transient prayers.

I remembered a day whereon the colonel's riding-whip had been laid about Squire Morris's shoulders.

My heart beat high at the thought, for the squire had insulted one whose sweet face had long lain still. I thought of the son.

"Poor Liza," I murmured, and lifted the garden latch.

And as I looked up at Tommy's darkened window:

"G.o.d forbid," I said.

Next morning I called Tommy aside.

"Do you know young Morris, of Borcombe?"

He nodded.

"Tommy, I--I wish you would endeavour to avoid him in the future. He is no fit companion for you."

"Why?"

"I--you would not understand yet, Tommy; you must take my word for it."

Tommy looked a little sullen.

"He's a jolly good sort," he said. "I know him well; he's a jolly good sort."

"I am asking you, Tommy,"--I hesitated then. "For your father's sake," I added.

Tommy looked straight into my eyes.

"He was a friend of father's," he said, quietly.

"Your father thrashed the squire with his own hand; I saw him do it."

Tommy stood very still.

"Why?"

"I--I cannot explain it exactly; you must take my word."

Tommy turned on his heels.

"He's a jolly good sort," he muttered.

"But you must not make him a friend."

Tommy was silent, kicking at the carpet.

"I shall if I like," he said, presently; and that was the last word.

And it was only when I came back, rather sadly, from the station that I remembered the doctor's words and found a meaning for them.

"Oh, what a fool I am!" I said.

XI

IN WHICH TOMMY IS IN PERIL

Tommy spent his Christmas in town, with a distant relative, for I had been called abroad upon a matter of business, and his Easter holidays, since I was still away, were pa.s.sed in Camslove vicarage.

It was, therefore, a year before I saw Tommy again, and on an August morning I met him at the little station.