“I was talking to myself,” a little stiffly.
Julius inclined his head again.
“Yes, sir; we both heard you,” he said. “I’ve got wonderful ears.”
“I understand Miss Ford was alone in the house and she asked you to come and stay? I’m glad.”
“Well, not exactly alone,” explained Mr. Superbus, loath to share the honours which were rightly his as Chief Protector. “Of course, there’s Uncle Isaac.”
“Unc—Uncle Isaac? Uncle Isaac who?”
Julius had meant to ask this question at the first opportunity.
“I don’t know his other name—very bad-tempered gentleman. He has fits; and....” He tapped his forehead, but Bobbie did not grasp the sense of the pantomime.
“Uncle Isaac! Suffering Moses!”