"Pears?" he whispered hoarsely; "arter the pears? Where? Where are

they?"

He kept on the move, making for the door and coming back, and behaving

altogether like a dog full of expectation of a rush after some wild

creature in a hunt.

"Be quiet or we sha'n't catch them," I whispered. "Some boys have

climbed over the wall, and are after the Marie Louise pears."

He stopped short suddenly.

"Yah!" he cried, "they ain't. It's your larks."

"You stupid fellow! I tell you they are."

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"Mary Louisas ain't ripe," he cried.

"Don't care; they've gone after them. Come, and bring a stick."

"Fain larks," he said dubiously.

"Just as if I would play tricks with you!" I cried impatiently.

"No, you wouldn't, would yer?" he said hoarsely. "Wouldn't be hard on a

chap. Stop a minute."

He rustled off amongst the straw, and I heard a rattling noise and then

a chuckle, and Shock was back to hand me a stick as thick as my finger.

"Hezzles," he whispered--"nut hezzle. Come along. You go first."

Though I had roused Shock out of bed he had no dressing to do, and

following me down the ladder he walked quickly after me down one of the

paths, then to the right along another till we came to a corner, when we

both stopped and listened.

Shock began to hiss very softly, as if he were a steam-engine with the

vapour escaping from the safety-valve, as we heard, about fifty yards

from us, the rustling of the pear-trees, the heavy shake of a bough, and

then through the pitchy darkness whop! whop! whop! whop! as the pears

fell on to the soft ground.

"You go this way," I whispered to Shock, "and I'll go that way, and then

we'll rush in and catch them."

"Yes," he said back. "Hit hard, and mind and get hold o' the bag."

We were separating when he caught hold of my arm.

"'Old 'ard," he whispered. "Let's rush 'em together."

In the darkness perhaps his was the better plan. At all events we

adopted it, and taking hold of hands we advanced on tiptoe trembling

with expectation, our sticks grasped, and every now and then the pendent

branches of some tree rustling in and sweeping our faces. And all the

time, just in front, we could hear the hurried shaking of boughs, the

fall of the pears, and tittering and whispering as the party seemed to

be picking up the spoil.

"We shall have too many," whispered a voice just before us.

"Never mind; let's fill the bag. Go it, boys."

"Hush! Some one'll hear."

"Not they. Go on. Here's a bough loaded. Oh, I say!" Shock gave my

hand a nip to which I responded, and then all at once from under the

tree where we stood we made a rush at the indistinct figures we could

sometimes make out a few yards away.




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