He had the satisfaction of eating apples in the
moonlight and of posing as a bitterly wronged boy at Drift when Mary came
down, lighted a candle, and let him into the house.
Uncle Chirgwin also appeared, and said some hard things in a sleepy voice,
while Tom drank cider and ate a big slice of bread and bacon.
"A terrible Old Testament man, your faither, sure 'nough," said Uncle
Chirgwin. "Be you gwaine to stop the night 'long o' us or no?"
"Not me! I got to be in the bwoat 'fore half-past five to-morrer marnin'."
"This marnin' 'tis," said Mary, "or will be in a few minutes. An' you can
tell your faither what I said 'bout charity, if you like. I sez it again,
an' it won't hurt en to knaw."
"But it might hurt me to tell. The less said soonest mended wi' faither."
Tom departed, the lighter for his basket. He flung a stone at a hare,
listened to the jarring of a night-hawk, and finally returned home about
one o'clock. Both his parents were awaiting him, and the boy saw that his
mother had been enduring some trouble on his behalf.
"Mind, my son, hencefarrard that the Sabbath is the Lard thy God's. You may
have done others a good turn besides yourself this night."
"What did they say, Tom?" asked his mother.
"They wasn't best pleased. They said a hard sayin' I'd better not to say
agin," answered the boy, heavy with sleep.
"Let it be. Us doan't want to hear it.
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