Chapter Eleven.
Through the Storm.
“It’s enough to make a man say he’ll throw up the whole affair,” cried Uncle Paul, running his fingers in amongst his grizzly hair and giving it a savage tug.
“Uncle! Why, what’s the matter now?”
“Yes, you may well say what’s the matter now! Everything’s the matter. The worry’s almost maddening.”
“What, is there anything fresh, uncle?”
“There, don’t you take any notice, boy. I get regularly out of heart. There’s always something wrong. It’s as if we were never to be off. All these weary, weary months gone slowly dragging on.”
“Why, uncle, they seem to me to go like lightning,” cried Rodd.
“Oh, yes, of course. You are a boy, with plenty of time before you. I am getting an old man, and with little time to spare to do all the work I want to. I seem to get not a bit farther.”