But what are we to think of these cruel sports in which you indulge, these scenes of vice and drunkenness where you are constantly found?
Even the Sabbath is not sacred to you.

What is this story we hear of you--that no girl may even go to church without paying 'Tom Tufton's toll' at the lych gate ?" Tom broke into a sudden laugh.
"They like that toll well enough, father, I can tell you; else they could go round the other way.

Why, you yourself salute the farmers' little wenches on the cheek sometimes--I have seen you do it; and why not I the older ones ?" The Squire looked at his son with mournful intensity of gaze.
"Tom, Tom, I think sometimes that thou dost err more from thoughtlessness than from wickedness; but, my son, thoughtlessness, if carried to excess, may become wickedness, and may breed vice.

I verily believe that in half thy pranks thou dost mean no great harm; but thou art growing to man's estate, Tom.

It is time that thou didst put away childish things.