Suddenly, just as he had made a very poor breakfast, the clock on the chimney-piece gave a loud ting. It was the half-hour, and Tom rose quickly after a hasty glance at his uncle and aunt. He had had breakfast for the last time, and feeling that this change of treatment was only due to his Uncle Richard’s presence, he was more determined than ever to go.
“Good-bye, Uncle Richard,” he said firmly, but there was a husky sound in his voice.
“No, no, sit down, Tom,” was the reply. “We won’t say good-bye yet.”
Sam stopped eating, with a bit of kidney half-way to his mouth, and stared.
“Yes, sit down, Tom,” said Mr Brandon, giving a premonitory cough, after a glance at his wife. “The fact is, my lad, your uncle and I had a little conversation about you after you were gone to bed last night.”
Tom, who had subsided into his chair, took hold of the table-cloth, and began to twist it up in his agitation, as a peculiar singing noise came in his ears; and as he listened he kept on saying to himself—“Too late—too late; I must keep to it now.”
“Yes, a very long talk,” said Uncle Richard.
“Very,” acquiesced his brother; “and as we—as he—”
“As we, James,” said Uncle Richard.
“Exactly—could not help seeing that you do not seem cut out for the law—er—hum—do not take to it—he has been kind enough to say that he will give you a trial with him down in the country.”