“Yes, sir, indeed; I’d have spoken sooner if I could, but I always said to myself there was plenty of time for it before Mr Thomas would be of age. Good-morning, sir; good-morning, Mr Thomas. I’d like to shake hands with you once more. I’m glad to see you, sir, grown so, and looking so happy; but don’t you go thinking that I came down on such a mean errand as that. I ain’t perfect, I know, and in some cases I might have expected something, but I didn’t here.”
“I don’t think you did, Pringle,” cried Tom, holding out his hand, at which the clerk snatched.
“Neither do I, Mr Pringle, now,” said Uncle Richard, “though I did at first. Thank you for your proffer, but once more, that unhappy business is as a thing forgotten to my nephew and me.”
“Very good, sir; I’m very sorry I came,” began Pringle.
“And I am not. I beg your pardon, Mr Pringle; and I am sure my nephew is very glad to see you.”
“Oh, don’t say no more about it, sir; I only thought—”
“Yes, you did not quite know us simple country people,” said Uncle Richard. “There, Tom, see that your visitor has some lunch. Dinner at the usual time, and we’ll have tea at half-past seven, so as to give you both a long afternoon. I dare say Mr Pringle will enjoy a fine day in the country.”
“I should, sir, but I’ve to go back.”
“Plenty of time for that,” said Uncle Richard; “the station fly shall be here to take you over in time for the last train. There, you will excuse me.”
That evening, as Tom rode over to the station with his visitor, and just before he said good-bye, Pringle rubbed away very hard at his damaged hat, but in vain, for the breakage still showed, and exclaimed—