'How's that?'
'At the "Feathers". I should go there, if I were you. The charges are quite reasonable, and the food is good. You will like the "Feathers".'
'I don't get you, sonny.'
'I was trying to break it gently to you that you are about to move from this house. Now. At once. Take your last glimpse of the old home, Sam, and out into the hard world.'
He looked at me inquiringly.
'You seem to be talking, young man; words appear to be fluttering from you; but your meaning, if any, escapes me.'
'My meaning is that I am about to turn you out. I am coming back here, and there is not room for both of us. So, if you do not see your way to going quietly, I shall take you by the back of the neck and run you out. Do I make myself fairly clear now?'
He permitted himself a rich chuckle.
'You have gall, young man. Well, I hate to seem unfriendly. I like you, sonny. You amuse me—but there are moments when one wants to be alone. I have a whole heap of arrears of sleep to make up. Trot along, kiddo, and quit disturbing uncle. Tie a string to yourself and disappear. Bye-bye.'
The wicker-work creaked as he settled his stout body. He picked up the handkerchief.