the waiter, leaping off his feet. "Wot yo' got in yo' hand?"
"Why, nothing, Aleck, my boy. Yes, I'm feeling fine. I've gained fifteen pounds, and"
"Yo' lemme go, sah—yo' is stickin' pins in my hand!" howled Pop. "Oh, deah, now de term's dun begun we'll all be dead wid dat boy's tricks!" he moaned, as Tom ran off, throwing away several tiny tacks as he did so.
"So you've come back, have you?" observed Mrs. Green, as Tom stopped at the kitchen door. "Well, just you mind your Ps and Qs, or there will be trouble, I can tell you that, Tom Rover."
"Why, we never had any trouble, Mrs. Green," he said soberly. "Did we?"
"Oh, of course not! But who stole that can of peaches right after the Christmas holidays, and who locked one of the cows in the back hall and nearly scared the washwoman to death? Oh, dear, you never did anything, never!" And Mrs. Green shook her hand warningly.
"Do you mean to say I would take a can of peaches, Mrs. Green?" asked Tom, and then his face fell. "Oh, dear, you always did put me down as the worst boy in the school, when—I—I—do—my—very—best," and, almost sobbing, Tom put his face up against his coat sleeve.
