“You did not get on very well with your uncle.”
“No; I was too stupid, and it made him angry, uncle.”
“Humph! Well, Tom, by-gones must of course be by-gones. Your cousin has written this letter at his father’s dictation, and here is a postscript.
“‘Father seems to be very dangerously ill, and the doctor says that he must have something upon his mind.’”
“Is it that he thinks he is more ill than he really is?” said Tom quietly; but his uncle looked up from the letter so sharply and sternly that the boy changed countenance.
“The letter does not suggest that, Tom,” said Uncle Richard, frowning. “My poor brother—” Uncle Richard paused for a moment or two—“wishes to see me once again, he says, and—and you, my boy, on business of great importance to you and your interests. If I cannot go, he requests that you be sent up to him at once.”
“Poor uncle!” said Tom quietly. “But does he think that I ought to go back to the law, uncle?”
“Perhaps.”
“But I couldn’t, Uncle Richard, I am so stupid. I hate it. Pray, pray don’t think of letting me go. I am so happy here.”
Uncle Richard’s face relaxed a little.