“Double up that piece of blotting-paper, and place it in the window, Tom,” said Uncle Richard; and while this was being done, the darkened glass was critically examined by the Vicar.
“I’m afraid you won’t see many stars in that, friend Brandon,” he said.
“It does not look like it,” replied Uncle Richard. “But let’s get it dry in this current of air, and see what it is like then. Besides, there is something else to follow. That is only the rough surface of metallic silver. It has to be burnished before it is fit for use. That’s right, Tom. There!”
The glass had been placed in the sunny window opening, and this being done, Uncle Richard washed his discoloured hands at the sink.
“Now,” he said, “dinner must be nearly ready. Stop and have a bit with us, Maxted, and see what the experiment says afterwards. It will be dry enough to polish by then.”
“Oh, thank you very much, but no, really I ought to—er—I did not mean to stay.”
“Never mind, stop,” cried Uncle Richard warmly.
“Yes, do stay, Mr Maxted,” cried Tom.
“It’s very good of you, but I think I ought to—”
“Stop,” said Uncle Richard.