That same day Mrs Fidler, who had heard the news, seized an opportunity to deliver her opinions to Tom.
“It’s just as I thought, sir,” she said, “he was never really bad. It was all nerves and fidgetting about himself. He thought he was in a very bad state, and kept on making himself worse and worse, till he believed that he was going to die. It was nothing but nerves.”
“It was something else,” thought Tom; and what that something was he did not confide to the housekeeper.
“I’m glad he has got well again,” he said to himself; “but I hope neither he nor Cousin Sam will come down here.”
Chapter Forty.
Time went on at its customary pace, and Uncle Richard had business in London again, where he was detained for some time.
At last there came a letter saying that he would not be back yet, but that he hoped Tom would complete a perfect plane mirror before his return, as he still thought they might do better, and get a truer image of the faint stars; so, forgetting all about Pete Warboys and his dog, Tom worked away as busily as if his uncle were at his elbow.
Then came another letter delaying the return; and in a postscript Uncle Richard wrote that he had called at Gray’s Inn, and seen Sam, who said that his father was now nearly well.