would have pleased me better, James,” said his brother coldly; “but the riot was getting too loud—I was obliged to come.”
“Then, now go and wait. The dinner will be ready soon.”
“That it just won’t,” cried cook viciously; “and if you’re a gentleman, though you are master’s own brother, you’ll come and help me.”
“There is no need,” said Uncle Richard, in his quiet way. “Mr. Brandon is not going to beat his nephew. He was very angry, no doubt, but that’s all over now; and as to the dinner, my dear madam, while I act the peacemaker, I hope you will bear in mind that I am very hungry, and should be very glad of some of the good things you were preparing, when in your genuine, womanly way you felt yourself called upon to defend this boy.”
“Look here, Richard,” began Mr. Brandon.
“Tut—tut—tut, man, be quiet. Tom, my lad, go up-stairs to your room and make yourself decent. Fanny, my good girl, you are spoiling an expensive dress put on in my honour. Mary, my child, there are two or three sharp pieces of the broken vase here. Would you mind? Thank you. These things are very sharp. Now you, Sam, jump up, and go and wash yourself. Do you hear?”
“Confound it all, Richard!” began Mr. Brandon.
“Tut—tut, quiet, man!” said Uncle Richard; “there’s nothing the matter with the fellow.”
“He’s half killed—dangerously hurt,” protested Mrs. Brandon.
“Not he, my dear Fanny. I saw him watching the proceedings with one eye open. Come, Sam, no nonsense. Get up, and go to your room; and don’t you dare to interfere with Tom, because if you do I shall come up myself. Let me see; I think I have a bit of a hold on you, have I not?”
Sam’s eyes both opened widely, and he rose to his feet, then directed an imploring look at his uncle, who drew back, pointed up the stairs, and the lad shivered slightly as he went slowly by him, and began to ascend.
“Hang it all, Richard, is this house mine or is it yours?” said James Brandon.
“Mine,” said his brother—“while I am your guest, of course. Thank you, Jem, I’ll take my cane, if you please. It is a favourite old malacca—a presentation.”
He took the cane quietly from his brother’s hand and replaced it in the stand, with the result that cook uttered a titter and hurried down-stairs, followed by Mary, bearing a dustpan full of broken sherds.
“Come, that’s better,” said Uncle Richard, disregarding his brother’s angry gesture. “Now, my dear Fanny, let me take you to the drawing-room. The storm’s over, and the sun is coming out. Don’t let’s spoil my visit because the boys fell out and broke a vase.”
“No, no, Richard,” said Mrs. Brandon, half hysterically, as she yielded at once and took her brother-in-law’s arm. “But you don’t know. That boy has the temper of a demon.”
“What, Sam?”
“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
