“Like the sneak he is, eh, Harry?”
The young man met his uncle’s eyes for the moment, and then dropped his own.
“You’ll kill those things with kindness, George. Any one would think you were fattening them for market. So Master Pradelle has gone, eh? Don’t cry, Louy; perhaps we can coax him back.”
He chuckled, and patted her cheek.
“Uncle, dear, don’t talk like that. We are in such trouble.”
“About Van Heldre, that boy’s master. Yes, of course. Very sad for Mrs Van and little Madelaine. Leslie was down there as soon as one of the miners brought up the news, trying to comfort them.”
Harry’s teeth gritted slightly, but he relapsed into his former semi-cataleptic state, as if forced to listen, and unable to move.
“I like Leslie,” said Vine sadly.
“So do I. At least, I don’t dislike him so much as I do some folks. Now if he had been there, he’d have behaved better than you did, Master Harry.”
“Uncle, dear, don’t be so hard on poor Harry.”