"You may go now, if you wish. I do not require anything further;" and Bertie fairly ran out of the office, jumped into an omnibus, and hurried straight to Fitzroy Square, instead of going home to Kensington. The moment the hall door opened he saw something unusual was about to take place: there were trunks and packages and muffle straps in the hall, and there, amidst them, stood Uncle Clair, looking quite calm, while Aunt Amy, Agnes, and Eddie flew hither and thither in every direction. There was a four-wheeler at the door too, so that evidently the family were going away. For a moment Bertie felt inclined to cry. What possible pleasure could he have in a week's holiday without Eddie and Agnes to share it? But the moment Aunt Amy caught sight of him, her bright face and cordial welcome re-assured him.
"he saw something unusual was about to take place."
"Dear Bertie, I am so glad. I was afraid your uncle could not spare you to come with us. But where are your things?"
"I haven't brought any. I only just came from the City to tell you Uncle Gregory gave me a week's holiday," Bertie replied, looking very much perplexed. "I did not know you were all going away, auntie, or of course I would not have come."
"Then you did not get the letter I sent you, dear?"
"No, aunt."
"Well, I wrote asking you to apply for permission to come with us to the sea-side for a week. But I suppose the letter miscarried some way. However 'All's well that ends well,' Bertie. You are just in time. Come now, help to carry the parcels. I hope we have not forgotten anything."
"If we were going to stay a year in a desert island a thousand miles from a shop, I should think we have enough luggage," Uncle Clair said, glancing comically at the numerous packages and trunks; "instead of which, we're only going to Brighton, and can get everything we want there just as well as in London."
"But am I really to go to the sea-side with you, Uncle Harry?" Bertie cried eagerly.