“I am glad to hear that, for to say truth—”
He paused abruptly.
“Ha! I suppose you were going to say that you have heard a different account of him—eh?”
“Well, I was going to observe,” replied Oliver, with a laugh, “that my uncle is rather a wild man for his years—addicted to smuggling, I am told, and somewhat given to the bottle; but it is well known that tattlers give false reports, and I am delighted to hear that the old boy is not such a bad fellow after all.”
“Humph!” ejaculated the other. “Then you have never seen him, I suppose?”
“No, never; although I am a Cornishman I have seen little of my native county, having left it when a little boy—before my uncle came to live in this part of the country.”
“H’m—well, young man, I would advise you to beware of that same uncle of yours.”
“How!” exclaimed the youth in surprise; “did you not tell me just now that he is a very good fellow?”
“No, sir, I did not. I told you that some people say he is a very good fellow, but for myself I think him an uncommonly bad man, a man who has done me great injury in his day—”
“It grieves me to hear you say so,” interrupted Oliver, whose ire was again roused by the tone and manner of his companion.