“Uncle, dear, don’t be so unreasonable,” said Louise, leaning back and looking up in the old man’s face—for he had thrown his basket and rod on a chair, and gone behind her to stand stroking her cheek—“Harry was at home with Mr Pradelle.”
“Pradelle, eh?” said the old man sharply. “Not up?”
“Mr Pradelle has gone,” said Louise.
“Gone, eh?” said Uncle Luke sharply.
“Yes,” said his brother. “Mr Pradelle behaved very nicely. He left this note for me.”
“Note, eh? Bank note—”
Harry winced and set his teeth.
“No, no, Luke. Nonsense!”
“Nonsense? I mean to pay for his board and lodging all the time he has been here.”
“Absurd, Luke!” said his brother, taking up a liberal meal for a sea-anemone on the end of a thin glass rod. “He said that under the circumstances he felt that he should be an encumbrance to us, and therefore he had gone by the earliest train.”