“Never mind, poor boy, this’ll do you good. I’ve brought you up a big breakfast-cup of nice, fresh, hot tea, and two rounds of buttered toast. They’ll do your head good.”
“I say, Jane, where’s uncle?”
“In his room. He’s had some too. I didn’t wait to be asked, but took the tea in.”
“What was he doing?” said Aleck.
“Writing.”
“His book?”
“No, letters; and as busy as could be. Come, try and drink your tea.”
“But isn’t it very early for tea—directly after dinner like this?”
“Directly after dinner? Why, bless the boy, it’s past seven!”
“Then I must have been asleep,” said the boy, speaking more collectedly now.