Reaching the terrace, I paused to brush the dust from knee and elbow while my uncle Jervas, lounging against the balustrade, viewed me languidly through his glass, and uncle George stared at me very round of eye and groped at his close-trimmed whisker.
"Sirs," said I, glancing from one to other, "I regret that I should appear to you as a 'fish,' a 'puppy' and a 'self-satisfied do-nothing,' but I utterly refuse to be considered either an 'incubus' or a 'damned lad'!"
"Oh, the dooce!" ejaculated uncle George.
"To the which end," I proceeded, "I propose to remove myself for a while—let us say for six months or thereabouts—on a condition."
"Remove yourself, nephew?" repeated uncle Jervas, peering at me a little more narrowly. "Pray where?"
"Anywhere, sir. I shall follow the wind, tramp the roads, consort with all and sundry, open the book of Life and endeavour to learn of man by man himself."
"Very fine!" said my uncle Jervas,—"and damned foolish!"
"In a word," I continued, "I propose to follow your very excellent advice, Uncle Jervas, and go out into the world to find my manhood if I can! That was your phrase, I think?"
"Ah, and when, may I ask?"
"At once, sir. But, as I said before—on a condition."