The girl placed the dish on the table hurriedly, and left the room.
“See if she has gone.”
“No fear,” said Van Heldre, obeying, to humour his visitor. “I don’t think my servants listen at doors.”
“Don’t trust ’em, or anybody else,” said Uncle Luke with a grim look, as he opened his basket wide. “Going to trust her?”
“Well, I’m sure, Mr Luke Vine!” cried Mrs Van Heldre, “I believe you learn up rude things to say.”
“He can’t help it,” said Van Heldre, laughing. “Yes,” he continued, with a droll look at his wife, which took her frown away, “I think we’ll trust her, Luke, my lad—as far as the fish is concerned.”
“Eh! What?” said Uncle Luke, snatching his hands from his basket. “What do you mean?”
“That the dish is waiting for the bit of conger.”
“Let it wait,” said the old man snappishly. “You’re too clever, Van—too clever. Look here; how are you getting on with that boy?”
“Oh, slowly. Rome was not built in a day.”