was thinking, uncle, that it is Cousin Sam who does not like me.”
“How can he when you knock him down, and then dash china vases at him, sir?”
“I suppose I did knock him down, uncle, but not until he had kicked and struck me. Throw vases at him!” cried the boy indignantly; “I wouldn’t be such a coward.”
“Humph!” grunted his uncle, taking up the morning paper that Mary had just brought in; and without another word he sat back in his chair and began to read, while Tom, with his face still burning, turned once more to his book, with a strange elation beginning to take the place of the indignation he felt against his uncle, for it had suddenly occurred to him that this was the last time he would have to make his head ache over the hard, brain-wearying work. Then the elation died out again, for what was to be his future fate?
He was musing over this, and wondering whether after all he dare trust Pringle, when the door suddenly opened, Uncle Richard rustled and lowered the paper, and Mrs. Brandon entered the room, looking wonderfully bright and cheerful.
“Good-morning, Richard,” she cried; “I am so sorry I am late. James will be down directly. Good-morning, Tom.”
Tom jumped in his chair at this pleasantly cordial greeting, and stared dumbfounded at his aunt.
“Not a bit late,” said Uncle Richard, after a glance at his watch. “You are very punctual. Hah, here is James.”
For at that moment Mr. Brandon, looking clean-shaven and pleasant, entered the room.
“Morning, Dick,” he cried; “what a lovely air. Ah, Tom, my boy, got over the skirmish?”
Tom babbled out something, and felt giddy. What did it mean? Could they have divined that he was about to run away, and were going to alter their treatment; or had Uncle Richard, who seemed again so grave and cold, been taking his part after he had gone to bed?
But he had very little time for dwelling upon that; the question which troubled him was, How could he go away now?
The thoughts sent him into a cold perspiration, and he glanced anxiously at the clock, to see that it was a quarter past eight, and that in fifteen minutes, according to custom, he must start for the office—for the office, and then—where?
Just then Mary entered with the breakfast-tray, and, chatting pleasantly, all took their seats. Mary whisked off two covers, to display fried ham and eggs on one, hot grilled kidneys on the other.
Tom grew hotter and colder, and asked himself whether he was going out of his mind, for there was no thin tea and bread-and-butter that morning.
“Tea or coffee, Tom?” said his aunt; and Tom’s voice sounded hoarse as he chose the latter.
He was just recovering from this shock when his uncle said—
“Ham and eggs or kidneys, Tom? There, try both—they go well together.”
“Thank you, uncle,” faltered the boy; and he involuntarily looked up at Uncle Richard, who sat opposite to him, and saw that, though his face was perfectly stern and calm, his eyes were fixed upon him with a peculiar twinkling glitter.
“Bread, my boy?” he said quietly, and he took up a knife and the loaf.
“Try a French roll, Tom,” said his aunt, handing the dish.
“How can I run away?” thought Tom, as he bent over his breakfast to try and hide his agitation, for his breast was torn by conflicting emotions, and it was all he could do to continue his meal. “It’s of no use,” he said to himself, as the conversation went on at the table; and though he heard but little, he knew that it was about the guest departing that morning for his home in Surrey.
“Yes,” said Uncle Richard, “I must get back, for I’m very busy.”
“And not stay another night?” said Aunt Fanny sweetly.
“No, not this visit, thanks. I’ll get back in good time, and astonish Mrs. Fidler. Hallo, squire, you’re late; Tom has half finished the kidneys.”
“Morning, uncle,” said Sam sourly; “I didn’t know it was so late. I’ve got a bad headache this morning, ma.”
“Have you, dear?—I am so sorry. But never mind, I’ve a nice strong cup of tea here, and I’ll ring for some dry toast.”
“No, don’t, ma,” said Sam, scowling at Tom, and looking wonderingly at his cousin’s plate. “I’ll have coffee and a hot roll.”
“But they will be bad for your head, love.”
Sam made no reply, but felt his plate, which was nearly cold, and then held it out to his father for some kidneys.
“Oh, Sam, my darling, don’t have kidneys, dear. I’m sure they’ll be bad for you.”
“No, they won’t, ma,” he said pettishly; and his father helped him liberally.
Uncle Richard went on with his breakfast, making believe to see nothing, but Tom noticed that his keen eyes glittered, and that nothing escaped him. Those eyes were wonderful, and fascinated the boy.
Suddenly, just as he had made a very poor breakfast, the clock on the chimney-piece gave a loud ting. It was the half-hour, and Tom rose quickly after a hasty glance at his uncle and aunt. He had had breakfast for the last time, and feeling that this change of treatment was only due to his Uncle Richard’s presence, he was more determined than ever to go.
“Good-bye, Uncle Richard,” he said firmly, but there was a husky sound in his voice.
“No, no, sit down, Tom,” was the reply. “We won’t say good-bye yet.”
Sam stopped eating, with a bit of kidney half-way to his mouth, and stared.
“Yes, sit down, Tom,” said Mr. Brandon, giving a premonitory cough, after a glance at his wife. “The fact is, my lad, your uncle and I had a little conversation about you after you were gone to bed last night.”
Tom, who had subsided into his chair, took hold of the table-cloth, and began to twist it up in his agitation, as a peculiar singing noise came in his ears; and as he listened he kept on saying to himself—“Too late—too late; I must keep to it now.”
“Yes, a very long talk,” said Uncle Richard.
“Very,” acquiesced his brother; “and as we—as he—”
“As we, James,” said Uncle Richard.
“Exactly—could not help seeing that you do not seem cut out for the law—er—hum—do not take to it—he has been kind enough to say that he will give you a trial with him down in the country.”
Tom’s head, which had been hanging down, was suddenly raised, and the words were on his lips to say No, he could not go, when he met the keen, bright, piercing eyes fixed upon his, and those words died away.
“He has not definitely decided as to what he will put you to, but means to test you,
