“Waited like, sir, to see if there might be a change of wind. You might want to go. They mightn’t want to come. Things veers about, sir, sometimes.”
“I consider it disgraceful,” said Mr Temple angrily, rising to touch the bell. “I’ll speak to the landlord myself.”
“Steady, sir, steady,” cried Uncle Abram. “Good neighbour o’ mine, you see. Spoke to me ’bout it, and I said yes, and here I be.”
“Yes, yes,” cried Mr Temple; “but am I to be thrown out without notice just at a time when I want particularly to stay?”
“No, sir, of course not. That’s what I keep explaining to you. Neighbour puts the case before me, and I says if the missus is willing nothing would please me better, and here I be.”
“But you do not explain matters,” said Mr Temple.
“What, not that Mrs Marion and your obedient sarvant to command, Abram Marion, ex Her Majesty’s sarvice, would be glad if you’d make shift in our rooms—sittin’, best, and two beds?”
“No. You said nothing of the kind.”
“Think of that now,” said Uncle Abram, smiling broadly. “That’s just like me, Master Dick. Gettin’ old, you see. But if you could work it round that way, sir, it would be making it pleasant for all parties, and we’d do the best up at the cottage to make you comfortable; and there’s my boy Will and our Josh and the boat at your sarvice, and there you are; and neighbour below don’t upset his old friends.”
“I shall be delighted, Mr Marion, I’m sure,” said Mr Temple, holding out his hand, which the old fellow shook heartily, bestowing a solemn wink on Dick at the same time.