He then called down a little break-neck range of steps behind a door: “Bring up that tea and bread-and-butter!” which, after some time, during which I sat looking about me and thinking, and listening to the stitching in the room and the tune that was being hammered across the yard, appeared on a tray, and turned out to be for me.
“I have been acquainted with you,” said Mr. Omer, after watching me for some minutes, during which I had not made much impression on the breakfast, for the black things destroyed my appetite, “I have been acquainted with you a long time, my young friend.”
“Have you, sir?”
“All your life,” said Mr. Omer. “I may say before it. I knew your father before you. He was five foot nine and a half, and he lays in five and twen-ty foot of ground.”
“Rat—tat-tat, RAT—tat-tat, RAT—tat-tat,” across the yard.
“He lays in five and twen-ty foot of ground, if he lays in a fraction,” said Mr. Omer, pleasantly. “It was either his request or her direction, I forget which.”
“Do you know how my little brother is, sir?” I inquired.
Mr. Omer shook his head.
“Rat—tat-tat, RAT—tat-tat, RAT—tat-tat.”
“He is in his mother’s arms,” said he.