“It’s because his breath is so short first thing in the morning.”
“Oh, that’s it,” said Sam coolly, and he gave a sharp look round. “Is that the old windmill Uncle Dick bought?”
“Yes,” said Tom, who felt rather disgusted with his cousin’s indifference and cavalier airs.
At that moment they had nearly reached the porch from which the low groaning sounds issued, and the brothers appeared, with James leaning-heavily upon Richard’s arm.
Uncle James started on seeing his son, and left off groaning.
“Morning, gov’nor,” said Sam. “Better? Morning, Uncle Richard.”
“Is—is anything wrong at the office?” cried Uncle James excitedly.
“Wrong? No. We get on all right.”
“Then why have you come?”
“Oh, it was Saturday. Mother was going down to Brighton, and I thought I’d run down here from Saturday to Monday, and see how you were.”