“Seems like it,” said the vicar, laughing. Then seriously, “Yes, thank heaven, I feel quite myself again.”
“That’s good,” said Uncle Richard. “I am very glad.”
“I know you are. And oh, Brandon, you can’t think how glad I am to get back to the dear old place again. My garden looks delightful; and yours?”
“Capital.”
“But, my dear fellow, what in the world are you doing with the old mill. I heard you had bought it. Sails gone, mended, painted. Why, surely—yes—no—yes, I have it—observatory.”
“Right.”
“Splendid idea. Capital. You ought to have a big telescope for that.”
“Making it,” said Uncle Richard laconically.
“Glad of it. Wish I could join you. There, good-bye, so much to do; can’t tell me, I suppose, what to do with that lad Pete Warboys?”
Uncle Richard shook his head, and the vicar shook his hand. Then as he went through the same process with Tom, he said—