“We shall see about that,” said Uncle James, rising from his place, for the dinner was at an end, and walking firmly enough out of the room.
Uncle Richard frowned and looked troubled. Mrs Fidler looked at Tom, and as soon as they were alone she began to question him, and heard all.
“Well,” she said, “I’m not going to make any remarks, my dear, it isn’t my duty; but I will say this, I don’t like to see your dear uncle imposed upon even by his brother, and I hope to goodness Mr James will keep his word, for I don’t believe you upset him on purpose.”
Uncle James did keep his word, for an hour later he was in the fly with his portmanteau on his way to the station.
“And never give me so much as a shilling, Master Tom, and me been twice to fetch that fly. If he wasn’t your uncle, sir, I’d call him mean. But what did you say? I’m to fetch the chair, as is lying broken at the big sand-pit?”
“Yes, in Mr Maxted’s cart.”
“Did it fall over?”
“Yes, right over, down the slope from top to bottom.”
“And him in it, sir?”
“Yes.”