style="font-size:15px;"> “No, no, No! That boy Thomas. We haven’t had a day’s peace since he came into the house. And now a fifty-pound vase broken. Oh! the wicked boy.”
“I didn’t do it, aunt. It was Sam,” came from the head of the staircase.
“Ah! Silence there, sir!” shouted Uncle Richard. “How dare you stand there listening! Be off, and make yourself decent for dinner.”
“Richard!” cried Mrs Brandon, in a tone of remonstrance, “you surely would not have that boy down to dinner now!”
“Why not, my dear sister?” he said, as they reached the drawing-room floor.
“After breaking that vase?”
“Never mind the vase, Fanny.”
“And nearly killing his cousin?”
“Nonsense, my dear, partial, motherly judge. Lookers-on see most of the game,” said Uncle Richard good-humouredly. “I was looking on from the landing for some time, and from what I saw, I have no hesitation in saying that Master Tom got as good as he gave.”
“But oh, Richard!”
“Tut – tut! Listen to me, my dear. Boys will quarrel and fight sometimes. I can remember a good many sets-to with Jem when we were young. These two have fought, and it’s all over.”
“But you really don’t know,” began Mrs Brandon.
“Oh yes, I do. Master Tom is not perfect. There, there, forget it all now; and let me send you a vase to replace the one broken. By the way, I hope they will not be long with that dinner.”
“Oh no, it will not be long now – that is, if that insolent woman will condescend to send us up some.”
“But she will,” said Uncle Richard good-humouredly. “If she does not, and the worst comes to the worst, we’ll storm her kitchen and finish the cooking ourselves. I’m a good cook in my way. Bachelors have their whims.”
“Ah, you don’t know what London servants are.”
“No,” said Uncle Richard, smiling pleasantly at the flurried lady, who was still troubled by the domestic storm through which she had just passed. “Mrs Fidler is a very good old soul in her way, and the maid has been with me some time now, and has evidently made up her mind to stop. I don’t give them much trouble, except with my fads.”
“And do you still go on with – with those – those – ”
“Crazes?” said Uncle Richard smilingly. “To be sure I do. Ah, here’s James. Well, old fellow, is it all right again?”
“Right again?” said Mr Brandon, who had just entered the room; “no, it is not. But there, I’m sorry there should be all this disturbance when you are here. It all comes of being charitable in the course of duty. But there, I’ll say no more.”
“That’s right,” said Uncle Richard, just as Mary entered the room with —
“If you please, ma’am, dinner is served.”
“Hah!” cried Uncle Richard, rising to offer his arm to his sister-in-law. “But the boys are not down.”
“No; and they are not coming,” said Mr Brandon angrily.
“Oh, James dear!” protested Mrs Brandon.
“My dear Jem!” said Uncle Richard, smiling, “I put in my petition. The fight is over, so now let’s have peace and – dinner.”
“Oh, very well,” said Mr Brandon. “Mary, go and tell Mr Samuel that we are waiting dinner for him.”
“And, Mary, you will convey the same message to Mr Thomas,” said Uncle Richard.
“Yes, sir,” said the girl, with a smile; and before her master could protest she was gone.
Five minutes elapsed, during which Uncle Richard seemed to have forgotten his dinner in eager explanation of some piece of mechanism that he was making, and about which he had come up to town. At the end of that time Tom entered nervously, looking as if he had had his share of cuts and bruises; but to his great satisfaction no one said a word; and then Sam came in, looking very puffy about the eyes, and with one side of his mouth drawn down into a peculiar swollen smile.
“Oh!” exclaimed his mother, and she rose to fly to his side; but Uncle Richard was prepared for her, and took her hand to draw through his arm.
“That’s right,” he cried. “I am awfully hungry;” and he led her out of the room, followed by Mr Brandon, while Tom and Sam followed in silence down the stairs, each intent upon the plans he had in his breast, and fully determined to carry them out.
Chapter Six
It was a capital dinner, but Sam felt that he could not eat a bit for mental troubles, while his cousin felt the same from bodily reasons connected with a terrible stiffness at one angle of his lower jaw.
Consequently Sam made a very poor dinner, to his mother’s grief; but Tom ate heartily and enjoyed everything, forgetting his cares for the time being, as he listened in astonishment to the way in which his cold, grave uncle could brighten up, and keep the whole table interested by his conversation relating to discoveries in the world of science, especially in connection with light, and researches in what he spoke of as “The Vast Abyss.”
Then came tea in the drawing-room, and on the part of the two boys an early movement in the direction of bed.
Tom was on his guard as soon as they were alone, fully expecting that his cousin would in some way renew hostilities, the more especially as neither Mr nor Mrs Brandon had had an opportunity of speaking to them with warning or appeal.
But Sam did not even look at him, undressing himself in sulky silence, throwing his clothes here and there, and plunging into bed and turning his face to the wall as he began to make his plans respecting a campaign he intended to carry out for the destruction of his cousin’s peace, without running risks of getting himself injured as he had been that night.
“For,” said Sam to himself, “everything seems to be against me. I only forgot that letter, and instead of helping a fellow out of a hole that beastly young sneak betrayed me. Then when I meant to pay him out, all the luck was on his side; and lastly, old moony Uncle Dick must turn upon me about that money affair. But wait a bit, I’ll pay him back, and then he may tell the guv’nor if he likes. What did he say when I went and told him what a hole I was in over that account, and was afraid the guv’nor would know; – that it was embezzlement, and a criminal offence, and that if I had done such a thing for a regular employer, I might have found myself in the felon’s dock? Rubbish! I only borrowed the money for a few weeks, and meant to pay it back. He shall have it again; and let him tell the old man if he dares. A coward, to throw that in my teeth! Wonder if they’ll ask him what he meant. But all right, Master Tom Blount, you shall pay for this.”
Meantime the object of his threatenings had undressed in silence too, extinguished the light, remembered by his bedside the old mother-taught lesson, and added a prayer for pardon in regard for that which he had made up his mind to do. Then, as his head pressed the pillow, he lay thinking of all that had taken place since he had been at his uncle’s, and came finally to the conclusion that he could bear no more.
“I
