This was too much for Mrs Fidler, who looked piteously from one to the other, and exclaimed—
“Is there anything the matter with the veal pie, sir?”
“Eh? Matter, Mrs Fidler?” said Uncle Richard. “I hope not. I really don’t know. Oh, I see. I have hardly tasted it. The fact is, Mrs Fidler, I am in trouble.”
Tom jumped in his chair.
“David has told him,” he said to himself, and he felt hot and cold.
“I have heard something this morning which has disturbed me a good deal.”
Uncle Richard turned his eyes upon his nephew, who tried to speak, but no words would come.
“Dear, dear me, sir,” said the housekeeper. “I am so sorry.”
“I know you are,” said Uncle Richard. “The fact is, my brother met with an accident some little time ago, and it was thought to be of no consequence, but it seems that it is, and the doctors have ordered that he should at once have change of air. He has written to me this morning to that effect.”
“Then he don’t know anything about it,” said Tom, with a sigh of relief, which gave place to a feeling of annoyance, for he wished now that his uncle did know.