You'd better take care.

It is my place to keep order, and I can't let you off for being my brother; so remember, if I catch you going to Ballhatchet's again, you may make sure of a licking." So the warning closed--Tom more alarmed at the aspect of right, which he fancied terrific, and Norman with some compunction at having lost temper and threatened, when he meant to have gained him by kindness.
Norman recollected his threat with a qualm of dismay when, at the end of the week, as he was returning from a walk with Cheviot, Tom darted out of the gate-house.

He was flying across the bridge, with something under his arm, when Norman laid a detaining hand on his collar, making a sign at the same time to Cheviot to leave them.
"What are you doing here ?" said Norman sternly, marching Tom into the field.

"So you've been there again.

What's that under your jacket ?" "Only--only what I was sent for," and he tried to squeeze it under the flap.
"What is it?
a bottle--" "Only--only a bottle of ink." Norman seized it, and gave Tom a fierce angry shake, but the indignation was mixed with sorrow.