“I’m going to have my lunch,” he said sharply, “and I may not come back, though all the same I may. Mind that man Pringle goes on with his work, and don’t let me have any fault to find about your reading. When you go home tell them to give you something to eat, for there will be no regular dinner to-day, as I shall be out. Take home any letters that may come, in case I don’t look in.”
“All right, uncle.”
“And don’t speak in that free-and-easy, offhand, unbusiness-like manner. Say ‘Yes, sir,’ and ‘No, sir,’ if you are not too stupid to remember.”
He put on his hat and went out, leaving the boy feeling as if a fresh sting had been planted in his breast, and his brow wrinkled up more than ever, while his heart grew more heavy in his intense yearning for somebody who seemed to care for him, if ever so little.
Five minutes later Pringle came back, looking shining and refreshed. As he entered he gave Tom an inquiring look, and jerked his head sidewise toward the inner office.
Tom was not too stupid to understand the dumb language of that look and gesture.
“No,” he replied. “He went out five minutes ago, and said that very likely he wouldn’t be back.”
“And that you were to take any letters home after office hours?”
“Yes; how did you know?”
“How did I know!” said the clerk with a chuckle; “because I’ve been caught before. That means that he’ll be sure to look in before very long to see whether we are busy. You’d better read hard, sir, and don’t look up when he comes. Pst! ’ware hawk!”