“Perhaps she mightn’t think so,” said Tom, superciliously; he was not in the mind to agree with any one. The constable looked at him solemnly for a moment and then said: “Her’s been a God-fearin’ woman from her youth up, and her’s had a deal o’ trouble. Thaay as the Lord loveth He chasteneth, and ’tisn’t such as thaay as is afeard to go afore Him.” “Well, I never found that having trouble made people a bit more anxious to get ‘out on’t,’ as you call it,” said Tom. “It don’t seem to me as you can ’a had much o’ trouble to judge by,” said the constable, who was beginning to be nettled by Tom’s manner. “How can you tell that?” “Leastways ’twould be whoam-made, then,” persisted the constable; “and ther’s a sight o’ odds atween whoam-made troubles and thaay as the Lord sends.” “So there may; but I may have seen both sorts for anything you can tell.” “Nay, nay; the Lord’s troubles leave His marks.” CXXXIII. “And I be to write to you, sir, then, if Harry gets into trouble?” “Yes; but we must keep him out of trouble, even home-made ones, which don’t leave good marks, you know,” said Tom. “And thaay be nine out o’ ten o’ aal as comes to a man, sir,” said David, “as I’ve a told Harry scores o’ times.” “That seems to be your text, David,” said Tom, laughing. “Ah, and ’tis a good un too, sir. ’Tis a sight better to have the Lord’s troubles while you be about it, for thaay as hasn’t makes wus for theirselves out o’ nothin’.” CXXXIV. Grey, who had never given up hopes of bringing Tom round to his own views, had not neglected the opportunities which his residence in town offered, and had enlisted Tom’s services on more than one occasion. He had found him specially useful in instructing the big boys, whom he was trying to bring together and civilize in a “Young Men’s Club,” in the rudiments of cricket on Saturday evenings. But on the morning in question an altogether different work was on hand.