The Vast Abyss

“If Pete Warboys dies – ”

“Hush! don’t talk about it,” cried Tom in horror.

“Oh, cert’ny not, sir, if you don’t wish me to. May I talk about the dog?”

“Oh yes, of course,” cried Tom, as he looked round at the bright, smiling earth, glittering with diamond-like dew, and thought how terrible it would be for one so young to be snatched away.

“Well, sir, I was thinking a deal about that dog last night, for I couldn’t sleep, being a bit overcome like.”

“Yes, I was awake a long time,” said Tom, with a sigh.

“Not so long as I was, sir, I’ll bet a bewry pear. Well, sir, I lay a-thinking that if – mind, I only says if, sir – if Pete Warboys was to die, how would it be, if master didn’t say no, and I was to knock him up a barrel for a kennel to live in our yard?”

“I should ask uncle to let me keep him, David, for he’s a wonderful dog.”

“I don’t go so far as that, sir, for he’s a dog as has had a horful bad eddication, but something might be made of him; and it was a pity, seeing why he came yowling about our place, as you was so handy heaving stones at him.”

“What?” cried Tom indignantly.

“Well, sir, p’r’aps it was me. But it weer a pity, warn’t it?”

“Brutal,” cried Tom.

“Ah, it weer. He’s a horful hugly dog though.”

“Not handsome certainly,” replied Tom.

“That he arn’t, sir, nowheres. But if he was fed reg’lar like, so as to alter his shape, and I took off part of his ears, and about half his tail, he might be made to look respectable.”

“Rubbish!” cried Tom.

“Oh no, it arn’t, sir. Dogs can be wonderfully improved. But what do you say to askin’ cook to save the bits and bones while there’s no one to feed him? I’ll take ’em every day as I go home from work. What do you say?”

“Yes, of course,” cried Tom; and from that day the ugly mongrel was regularly fed, but after the first feeding it did not trouble David to take the food, but left its master’s side about three o’clock every afternoon, and came and fetched the food itself.

“Which it’s only nat’ral,” said David, with a grim smile; “for if ever I did see a dog as had ribs that looked as if they’d been grown into a basket to hold meat, that dog is Pete Warboys’; but I hope as good meat and bones ’ll do something to make his hair grow decent, for he’s a reg’lar worser as he is.”

Chapter Fifty Two

It was about a fortnight after the accident, that Tom was returning one day from Mother Warboys’ cottage, where the old woman had sat scowling at him, while Pete lay back perfectly helpless, and smiled faintly at his visitor, when he met Mrs Fidler by the gate looking out for him.

“There’s some one come from London to see you, Master Tom.”

“From London?”

“Yes, sir; he said his name was Pringle.”

“Pringle!” cried Tom eagerly. “Where is he?”

“In the dining-room with your uncle, sir; and I was to send you in as soon as you came back.”

Tom hurried in, and found the clerk from Gray’s Inn very smartly dressed. His hat was all glossy, and there was a flower in his button-hole.

“Ah, Pringle,” cried the boy, “I’m so glad to see you. This is Pringle, who was so kind to me, uncle, when I was at the office.”

“Yes,” said Uncle Richard, rather grimly; “Mr Pringle has already introduced himself, and – ahem! – told me of the friendly feeling which existed between you.”

The clerk, who had evidently been very uncomfortable, had brightened up a little at the sight of Tom, but his countenance fell again at Uncle Richard’s words.

“Now, Mr Pringle, perhaps you will be good enough to repeat that which you have told me – in confidence, for I should like my nephew to hear it, so that he can give his opinion upon the matter.”

“Certainly, sir,” said Pringle, brightening up, and becoming the sharp-speaking clerk once more. “The fact is, Mr Thomas, I have left Mr Brandon’s office – which I won’t deceive you, sir, he didn’t give me no chance to resign, but in consequence of a misunderstanding with Mr Samuel, because I wouldn’t tell lies for him, he sent me off at once.”

“I am very sorry, Pringle,” said Tom sympathetically.

“So am I, sir,” replied the clerk; “and same time, so I ain’t. But to business, sir. So long as I was Mr Brandon’s clerk, sir, my mouth seemed to be shut, sir; but now I ain’t Mr Brandon’s clerk, sir, it’s open; and feeling, as I did, that there are things that you and your respected uncle ought to hear – ”

“About my uncle and cousin?” cried Tom, flushing.

“Yes, sir. There was certain papers, sir, as – ”

“Thank you, Pringle,” cried Tom quickly; “neither my Uncle Richard nor I want to hear a single word about matters that are dead and buried.”

“Thank you, Tom,” cried Uncle Richard eagerly. “Mr Pringle will bear me out when I say, that you have used my exact words.”

“Yes, sir,” said Pringle, looking into his hat, as if to consult the maker’s name. “I can corroborate that – the very words.”

“So you see, Mr Pringle,” continued Uncle Richard, rising to lay his hand upon his nephew’s shoulder, “you have brought your information to a bad market, and if you expected to sell – ”

“Which I’m sure I didn’t, sir,” cried the clerk, springing up, and indignantly banging his hat down upon the table, to its serious injury about the crown. “I never thought about a penny, sir, and I wouldn’t take one. I came down here, sir, because I was free, sir, and to try and do a good turn to Mr Thomas here, sir, who was always a pleasant young gentleman to me, and I didn’t like the idea of his being done out of his rights.”

“Indeed!” said Uncle Richard, looking at the man searchingly.

“Yes, sir, indeed; I’d have spoken sooner if I could, but I always said to myself there was plenty of time for it before Mr Thomas would be of age. Good-morning, sir; good-morning, Mr Thomas. I’d like to shake hands with you once more. I’m glad to see you, sir, grown so, and looking so happy; but don’t you go thinking that I came down on such a mean errand as that. I ain’t perfect, I know, and in some cases I might have expected something, but I didn’t here.”

“I don’t think you did, Pringle,” cried Tom, holding out his hand, at which the clerk snatched.

“Neither do I, Mr Pringle, now,” said Uncle Richard, “though I did at first. Thank you for your proffer, but once more, that unhappy business is as a thing forgotten to my nephew and me.”

“Very good, sir; I’m very sorry I came,” began Pringle.

“And I am not. I beg your pardon, Mr Pringle; and I am sure my nephew is very glad to see you.”

“Oh, don’t say no more about it, sir; I only thought – ”

“Yes, you did not quite know us simple country people,” said Uncle Richard. “There, Tom, see that your visitor has some lunch. Dinner at the usual time, and we’ll have tea at half-past seven, so as to give you both a long afternoon. I dare say Mr Pringle will enjoy a fine day in the country.”

“I should, sir, but I’ve to go back.”