“Think not, Sam?”
“Sure of it, dad. There, I’ll be off now.”
“Yes, do; and pray be careful. One moment, Sam: your uncle is not out with you?”
“Which means he is with you,” said Sam, smiling.
“Yes, my boy, a little. We don’t quite agree about—about a little matter; but he would be friendly to you. So don’t you think you had better go down as a visitor?”
“No, father, I don’t,” said Sam shortly; and he went out at once.
“Gov’nor must have made a terrible mess of it, or he wouldn’t be in such a stew,” said Sam to himself, as he went thoughtfully away, and came to the conclusion that the best thing he could do would be to have a mouthful of something.
The mouthful took the form of a good dinner at a restaurant, and over this he sat thinking out his proceedings in a very cool, matter-of-fact way, till he thought it was time to make a commencement, when he summoned the waiter, and asked for the railway time-table. Then, after picking out a suitable train, he paid his bill with one of his father’s sovereigns, called a cab, and had himself driven to the terminus, where he took his ticket for the station beyond Furzebrough Road, and soon after was on his way down into the wild part of Surrey.