I thought when I lay down, after putting out my candle, that I should never get a wink of sleep. There was a dull glow upon my window-blind, and I could hear a distant clangour and a curious faint roar; but all at once, so it seemed to me, I opened my eyes, and the dull glow had given place to bright sunshine on my window-blind, and jumping out of bed I found that I had slept heartily till nearly breakfast time, for the chinking of cups in saucers fell upon my ear.
I looked out of the window, and there lay the town with the smoke hanging over it in a dense cloud, but the banging of a wash-jug against a basin warned me that Uncle Dick was on the move, and the next moment tap, tap, tap, came three blows on my wall, which I knew as well as could be were given with the edge of a hair-brush, and I replied in the same way.
“Ha, ha!” cried Uncle Bob, “if they are going to give us fried ham like that for breakfast—”
“And such eggs!” cried Uncle Jack.
“And such bread!” said Uncle Dick, hewing off a great slice.
“And such coffee and milk!” I said, taking up the idea that I was sure was coming, “we won’t go back to London.”
“Right!” said Uncle Dick. “Bah! Just as if we were going to be frightened away by a set of old women’s tales. They’ve got police here, and laws.”
The matter was discussed until breakfast was over, and by that time my three giants of uncles had decided that they would not stir for an army of discontented workmen, but would do their duty to themselves and their partner in London.
“But look here, boys,” said Uncle Dick; “if we are going to war, we don’t want women in the way.”
“No,” said Uncle Jack.