“Now, look here, Rodney,” he said; “it has been dawning upon me for a long time past that I have indulged and spoiled you, with the result that you are growing into a most impertinent young rascal. Have the goodness for the future, sir, to allow me to speak for myself. When I require your conversational assistance, I will ask you for it.”
“Yes, uncle, and—”
“Well, sir, what?”
“Aren’t you going to open that big letter, uncle? I want to know what’s the news.”
“What is it to you, sir?” cried Uncle Paul, who had been opening a very keen-looking, peculiarly-shaped, ivory-handled knife. “Have the goodness to let my business be my business. I have a very great mind to put this letter,”—and as he spoke he carefully cut round the seals—“and the other missives away in my writing-case until I am alone—” Here Uncle Paul unfolded a letter upon the top of which was stamped the Royal Arms, and smoothed it out upon the tablecloth—“and read it in peace, without being pestered by an impertinent boy. Bless my heart! Why, Pickle, my boy! Hark here! It’s a letter from the Government. Jump up and shout, you young dog! Hang Bony and all his works! It’s all right at last.”
“Why, what is it?” cried the boy excitedly, as his uncle went on eagerly reading the bold round hand that formed the formal contents.
“Hark here! ‘His Majesty’s advisers see their way to recommend that the long-deferred grant for the sea-going natural history expedition to the West Coast of Africa to be carried out by Dr Robson at his earliest convenience be made, and that the grant to the full amount will be paid in to Dr Robson’s bank as soon as formal application has been received.’ There, sir, what do you think of that? At last! At last! Pickle, my boy, they say that everything comes at last to the man who waits, and here it is.”
“Oh, Uncle Paul!” cried the boy, with sparkling eyes. “I am so glad—so glad!” And as he spoke he dashed at the reader, to catch him tightly by the two sides of the collar of his coat.
“Mind my clean cravat, Pickle.”
“Bother your clean cravat, uncle!” shouted the boy. “Look here, sir; you always promised me that if ever that money came and you went on that expedition, you’d play fair.”