He caught hold of the extended wrist, and with that and the stick, toiled up the steep slope, to the boy’s astonishment; and when they had reached the road, jerked the wrist from him, and walked on without a word till they came in sight of the house, when Tom plucked up the courage to speak.
“Really, uncle, I did not think of anything but running after that lad.”
“I want no excuses, sir,” cried Uncle James fiercely. “I know what it means. You are too idle—you are sick of wheeling the chair. It was all a planned thing. But mind, I shall take a note of it, and you will find out that you’ve made the great mistake of your life. Here, you sir!”
This was to David, who was in the garden; and he hurried up.
“Go and order me a fly to come here directly.”
“From the station, sir? It’s over there all day now.”
“From anywhere, only make haste.”
“Yes, sir,” said David; and he gave Tom a sharp look as much as to say, “Rather too much of a good thing to go over there twice.” Then he fetched his coat and went off.
“Hallo! Walking?” cried Uncle Richard, coming out of the observatory. “Where’s the chair?”
“Broken, smashed, thanks to this young scoundrel; and it’s a mercy I’m alive. But I’ll have no more of this.”