“Oh no, it will not be long now—that is, if that insolent woman will condescend to send us up some.”
“But she will,” said Uncle Richard good-humouredly. “If she does not, and the worst comes to the worst, we’ll storm her kitchen and finish the cooking ourselves. I’m a good cook in my way. Bachelors have their whims.”
“Ah, you don’t know what London servants are.”
“No,” said Uncle Richard, smiling pleasantly at the flurried lady, who was still troubled by the domestic storm through which she had just passed. “Mrs Fidler is a very good old soul in her way, and the maid has been with me some time now, and has evidently made up her mind to stop. I don’t give them much trouble, except with my fads.”
“And do you still go on with—with those—those—”
“Crazes?” said Uncle Richard smilingly. “To be sure I do. Ah, here’s James. Well, old fellow, is it all right again?”
“Right again?” said Mr Brandon, who had just entered the room; “no, it is not. But there, I’m sorry there should be all this disturbance when you are here. It all comes of being charitable in the course of duty. But there, I’ll say no more.”
“That’s right,” said Uncle Richard, just as Mary entered the room with—
“If you please, ma’am, dinner is served.”
“Hah!” cried Uncle Richard, rising to offer his arm to his sister-in-law. “But the boys are not down.”