“And not stay another night?” said Aunt Fanny sweetly.
“No, not this visit, thanks. I’ll get back in good time, and astonish Mrs Fidler. Hallo, squire, you’re late; Tom has half finished the kidneys.”
“Morning, uncle,” said Sam sourly; “I didn’t know it was so late. I’ve got a bad headache this morning, ma.”
“Have you, dear?—I am so sorry. But never mind, I’ve a nice strong cup of tea here, and I’ll ring for some dry toast.”
“No, don’t, ma,” said Sam, scowling at Tom, and looking wonderingly at his cousin’s plate. “I’ll have coffee and a hot roll.”
“But they will be bad for your head, love.”
Sam made no reply, but felt his plate, which was nearly cold, and then held it out to his father for some kidneys.
“Oh, Sam, my darling, don’t have kidneys, dear. I’m sure they’ll be bad for you.”
“No, they won’t, ma,” he said pettishly; and his father helped him liberally.
Uncle Richard went on with his breakfast, making believe to see nothing, but Tom noticed that his keen eyes glittered, and that nothing escaped him. Those eyes were wonderful, and fascinated the boy.