“There,” exclaimed Uncle Richard, when they rose from the table, “this is a broken day for you, so you had better take your cap and have a good look round at the place and village. Tea at six punctually. Don’t be late, or Mrs Fidler will be angry.”
“I don’t like to contradict you, sir,” said the housekeeper, smiling gravely; “but as Master Tom is to form one of the household now, he ought, I think, to know the truth.”
“Eh? The truth? Of course. What about?”
“Our way of living here, Master Tom,” said the housekeeper, turning to him. “I should never presume to be angry with your uncle, sir; I only carry out his wishes. He is the most precise gentleman I ever met. Everything has to be to the minute; and as to dusting or moving any of the things in his workshop or labour atory, I—”
“Oh!” exclaimed Uncle Richard, grinding his teeth and screwing up his face. “My good Mrs Fidler, don’t!”
“What have I done, sir?” exclaimed the housekeeper.
“Say workshop, and leave laboratory alone.”
“Certainly, sir, if you wish it.”
“That’s right. Well, Tom, what are you waiting for?”
“I thought, if you wouldn’t mind, I should like to help you unpack the boxes.”