Just then Mary entered with the breakfast-tray, and, chatting pleasantly, all took their seats. Mary whisked off two covers, to display fried ham and eggs on one, hot grilled kidneys on the other.
Tom grew hotter and colder, and asked himself whether he was going out of his mind, for there was no thin tea and bread-and-butter that morning.
“Tea or coffee, Tom?” said his aunt; and Tom’s voice sounded hoarse as he chose the latter.
He was just recovering from this shock when his uncle said—
“Ham and eggs or kidneys, Tom? There, try both—they go well together.”
“Thank you, uncle,” faltered the boy; and he involuntarily looked up at Uncle Richard, who sat opposite to him, and saw that, though his face was perfectly stern and calm, his eyes were fixed upon him with a peculiar twinkling glitter.
“Bread, my boy?” he said quietly, and he took up a knife and the loaf.
“Try a French roll, Tom,” said his aunt, handing the dish.
“How can I run away?” thought Tom, as he bent over his breakfast to try and hide his agitation, for his breast was torn by conflicting emotions, and it was all he could do to continue his meal. “It’s of no use,” he said to himself, as the conversation went on at the table; and though he heard but little, he knew that it was about the guest departing that morning for his home in Surrey.
“Yes,” said Uncle Richard, “I must get back, for I’m very busy.”