“Yes, uncle.”
“Did you do that in a fit of passion or sulks?”
“No,” I said sharply; “but because I wanted to show you to the very last that I had not forgotten what you taught me about self-denial and all that.”
“God bless you, my lad!” he cried, hurting me horribly as he shook hands exceedingly hard. “I’m glad to hear you say that, for we’ve been saying that if we want to win in this fight we can’t afford to part with one quarter of the Company. Cob, my lad, we want you to stay.”
“Uncle!” I cried.
“Yes, my lad, you are older in some things than your years, and though I’d do anything rather than run risks for you, I do feel that with right on our side, please God, we shall win yet, and that it would be cowardly for us even to let you turn tail.”
I don’t know what I should have said and done then, as Uncle Jack exclaimed:
“Have I said right, Dick, Bob?”
“Yes, quite,” said Uncle Dick warmly; “and for my part—”
“Hush! Sit down,” cried Uncle Bob, hastily setting the example so as to end the scene. “Yes, two eggs, please. Quick, here’s Mrs Stephenson coming with the cakes.”