“I’ll walk up with you.”
“Well, hurry, then. I haven’t much time.”
He did not reveal his surprise. It was the first time in all their lives together that Jeremy had suggested going with him anywhere. They set off together. It was a fine day of early autumn, red mist and faint blue sky, leaves thick upon the ground, the air peppermint in the mouth. Jeremy had to walk fast to keep pace with his father’s long strides.
Mr. Cole suddenly said:
“I’ve got a headache—a bad headache. It’s better out of the house than in.”
In every way it was better, as Jeremy knew. During luncheon, just concluded, Uncle Percy had roared with laughter over his memories of what Herbert was like when, as a small boy, in the middle of the night he thought he heard a burglar.
“When does Uncle Percy go, father?”
“Well—I thought he was going the day after to-morrow—but now he thinks he’ll stay another week.”
“I don’t like Uncle Percy, father,” Jeremy panted a little with his efforts to keep up.
“You mustn’t say that, my boy.”