hours?”
“Yes; how did you know?”
“How did I know!” said the clerk with a chuckle; “because I’ve been caught before. That means that he’ll be sure to look in before very long to see whether we are busy. You’d better read hard, sir, and don’t look up when he comes. Pst! ’ware hawk!”
He slipped into the little office, and his stool made a scraping noise, while, almost before Tom had settled down to his work, the handle of the outer door turned and his uncle bustled in.
“Here, did I leave my umbrella?” he said sharply.
“I did not see it, uncle—sir,” replied Tom, jumping from his stool.
“Keep your place, sir, and go on with your work. Don’t be so fond of seizing any excuse to get away from your books. Humph, yes,” he muttered, as he reached into his room and took up the ivory-handled article from where it stood.
The next moment he was at the door of the clerk’s office.
“By the way, Pringle, you had better go and have that deed stamped this afternoon if you get it done in time.”
“Yes, sir,” came back sharply, and the lawyer frowned, turned round, and went out once more.
The outer door had not closed a minute before the inner one opened, and Pringle’s head appeared, but with its owner evidently on the alert, and ready to snatch it back again.
“Good-bye! Bless you!” he said aloud. “Pray take care of yourself, sir. You can bob back again if you like, but I shan’t be out getting the deed stamped, because, as you jolly well know, it won’t be done before this time to-morrow.”
Pringle looked at Tom, smiled, and nodded.
“You won’t tell him what I said, Mr. Tom, I know. But I say, don’t you leave your stool. You take my advice. Don’t you give him a chance to row you again, because I can see how it hurts you.”
Tom’s lip quivered as he looked wistfully at the clerk.
“It’s all right, sir. You just do what’s c’rect, and you needn’t mind anything. I ain’t much account, but I do know that. I wouldn’t stay another month, only there’s reasons, you see, and places are easier to lose than find, ’specially when your last guv’nor makes a face with the corners of his lips down when any one asks for your character. Pst! look out. Here he is again.”
For there was a step at the door, the handle rattled, and as Pringle disappeared, a quiet, grave-looking, middle-aged man stepped in.
“Do, Tom!” he said, as with an ejaculation of surprise the boy sprang from his stool and eagerly took the extended hand, but dropped it again directly, for there did not seem to be any warmth in the grasp. “Quite well, boy?”
“Yes, Uncle Richard,” said Tom, rather sadly.
“That’s right. Where’s my brother?”
“He has gone out, sir, and said he might not return this afternoon.”
“Felt I was coming perhaps,” said the visitor. “Here, don’t let me hinder you, my lad; he won’t like you to waste time. Getting on with your law reading?”
The boy looked at him wistfully, and shook his head.
“Eh? No? But you must, my lad. You’re no fool, you know, and you’ve got to be a clever lawyer before you’ve done.”
Tom felt disposed to quote his other uncle’s words as to his folly, but he choked down the inclination.
“There, I won’t hinder you, my lad,” continued the visitor. “I know what you busy London people are, and how we slow-going country folk get in your way. I only want to look at a Directory—you have one I know.”
“Yes, sir, in the other office. I’ll fetch it.”
The quiet, grey-haired, grave-looking visitor gave a nod as if of acquiescence, and Tom ran into the inner office, where he found that Pringle must have heard every word, for he was holding out the London Directory all ready.
“He must hear everything too when uncle goes on at me,” thought Tom, as he took the Directory and returned Pringle’s friendly nod.
“Tell him he ought to give you a tip.”
Tom frowned, shook his head, and hurried back with the great red book.
“Hah, that’s right, my boy,” said the visitor. “There, I don’t want to bother about taking off my gloves and putting on my spectacles. Turn to the trades, and see if there are any lens-makers down.”
“Yes, sir, several,” said Tom, after a short search.
“Read ’em down, boy.”
Tom obeyed alphabetically till he came to D, and he had got as far as Dallmeyer when his visitor stopped him.
“That will do,” he said. “That’s the man I want. Address?”
Tom read this out, and the visitor said—
“Good; but write it down so that I don’t forget. It’s so easy to have things drop out of your memory.”
Tom obeyed, and the visitor took up the slip of paper, glanced at it, and nodded.
“That’s right. Nice clear hand, that one can read easily.”
“And Uncle James said my writing was execrable,” thought Tom.
“Good-bye for the present, boy. Tell your uncle I’ve been, and that I shall come on in time for dinner. Bye. Be a good boy, and stick to your reading.”
He nodded, shook hands rather coldly, and went out, leaving Tom looking wistfully after him with the big Directory in his hands.
“They neither of them like me,” he said to himself, feeling sadly depressed, when he started, and turned sharply round.
“On’y me, Mr. Tom,” said the clerk. “I’ll take that. Directories always live in my office. I say, sir.”
“Yes, Pringle.”
“I used to wish I’d got a lot of rich old uncles, but I don’t now. Wouldn’t give tuppence a dozen for ’em. Ketched again!—All right, Mr. Tom, sir; I’ll put it away.”
For the door opened once more, and their late visitor thrust in his head.
“Needn’t tell your uncle I shall come to-night.”
Pringle disappeared with the Directory, and Uncle Richard gazed after him in a grim way as he continued—
“Do you hear? Don’t tell him I shall come; and you needn’t mention that I said he wouldn’t want me, nor to his wife and boy neither. Bye.”
The door closed again,
