He slipped into the little office, and his stool made a scraping noise, while, almost before Tom had settled down to his work, the handle of the outer door turned and his uncle bustled in.
“Here, did I leave my umbrella?” he said sharply.
“I did not see it, uncle—sir,” replied Tom, jumping from his stool.
“Keep your place, sir, and go on with your work. Don’t be so fond of seizing any excuse to get away from your books. Humph, yes,” he muttered, as he reached into his room and took up the ivory-handled article from where it stood.
The next moment he was at the door of the clerk’s office.
“By the way, Pringle, you had better go and have that deed stamped this afternoon if you get it done in time.”
“Yes, sir,” came back sharply, and the lawyer frowned, turned round, and went out once more.
The outer door had not closed a minute before the inner one opened, and Pringle’s head appeared, but with its owner evidently on the alert, and ready to snatch it back again.
“Good-bye! Bless you!” he said aloud. “Pray take care of yourself, sir. You can bob back again if you like, but I shan’t be out getting the deed stamped, because, as you jolly well know, it won’t be done before this time to-morrow.”
Pringle looked at Tom, smiled, and nodded.