"Yes, I suppose so."

"How's dad?"

"Uncle James is better," said Tom quietly; and just then there was a loud groaning sound from within the porch.

"Oh--oh--oh!" at regular intervals.

"Hullo!" said Sam; "what's the matter? been killing somebody?"

"No. That's Uncle James being brought down from his room."

"Why, he wrote up and said he was better."

"It's because his breath is so short first thing in the morning."

"Oh, that's it," said Sam coolly, and he gave a sharp look round. "Is that the old windmill Uncle d.i.c.k bought?"

"Yes," said Tom, who felt rather disgusted with his cousin's indifference and cavalier airs.

At that moment they had nearly reached the porch from which the low groaning sounds issued, and the brothers appeared, with James leaning-heavily upon Richard's arm.

Uncle James started on seeing his son, and left off groaning.

"Morning, gov'nor," said Sam. "Better? Morning, Uncle Richard."

"Is--is anything wrong at the office?" cried Uncle James excitedly.

"Wrong? No. We get on all right."

"Then why have you come?"

"Oh, it was Sat.u.r.day. Mother was going down to Brighton, and I thought I'd run down here from Sat.u.r.day to Monday, and see how you were."

"Oh," said Uncle James in a tone of relief; and then he began to moan softly again, and moved toward the chair.

"Won't you stop for a bit, and chat with Sam?" said Uncle Richard.

"Eh? Yes, if you like," said his brother, hanging upon him feebly.

"But it doesn't much matter now."

"Oh yes, it does, Jem, a good deal. Here, Sam, my lad, try and cheer your father up with what news you have of his business."

"All right, uncle; but I say, you've got a pretty place here."

"Glad you like it, my lad."

"But I say, uncle, I haven't had my breakfast. Started off so early."

"I dare say something is being got ready for you," replied his uncle, smiling. "My housekeeper is very thoughtful."

_Click_! came from through the dining-room window.

"That sounds very much like the coffee-pot lid," continued Uncle Richard. "Take your cousin in, Tom. I'll lead your uncle round the garden while Sam has his breakfast, and then they can have their chat."

"I couldn't do it, d.i.c.k--I couldn't do it," groaned his brother piteously. "I'm as feeble as a babe."

"Then the fresh air will strengthen you," said Uncle Richard; and moaning softly as he drew his breath, James Brandon went slowly down the gravel walk.

"Only does that moaning noise when he thinks about it," said Sam, as he entered the house.

"No, I've noticed that," replied Tom; but all the same he felt annoyed by his cousin's brutal indifference. "Let me take your hat."

"No, thanks. Hang it up myself. Don't want it spoiled."

Tom drew back while the hat and cane were deposited in their places; and then the pair entered the little dining-room, where a luncheon tray was already placed at one end of the table, but with coffee-pot and bread-and-b.u.t.ter just being arranged by Mrs Fidler.

"Ah, that's your sort," said Sam; "but I say, old lady, I'm peckish; haven't you got anything beside this?"

"Some ham is being fried, sir, and some eggs boiled," said Mrs Fidler rather stiffly.

"Hah! that's better," said Sam; and Mrs Fidler left the room. "Well, young fellow, how are you getting on?" he continued, as he seated himself and began upon the breakfast. "What do you do here--clean the knives and boots?"

"No," said Tom.

"I thought you did. Hands look grubby enough."

Tom glanced at his hands, and saw that they were as rough and red as his cousin's were white and delicate.

"I help uncle do all sorts of things," he said quietly, "and sometimes I garden."

"And wish yourself back at Mornington Crescent, I'll bet tuppence."

"I haven't yet," said Tom bluntly.

"No; you always were an ungrateful beggar," said Sam in a contemptuous tone. "But that's about all you were fit for--sort of gardener's boy."

Tom felt a curious sensation tingling in his veins, and his head was hot, for times had altered now, and he was not quite the same lad as the one who had submitted to be tyrannised over in town. He was about to utter some angry retort, but he checked himself.

"I won't quarrel with him," he said to himself; and just then Mrs Fidler appeared with a covered dish, which she placed before the visitor.

"Thankye," he said shortly. "Take the cover away with you."

There was always a line or two--anxious-looking lines--upon Mrs Fidler's forehead; now five or six appeared, and her eyebrows suddenly grew closer together, and her lips tightened into a thin line, as she took off the cover, and then went in a very dignified way from the room.

Sam attacked the ham and eggs directly, and made a very hearty meal, throwing a word or two now and then at his cousin, and asking a few questions, but in an offhand, a.s.sumed, man-about-town style, and without so much as glancing at Tom, who sat watching him till he had finished his breakfast, when he rose, cleared his voice, rang the bell, brushed a few crumbs from his clothes, and took out a cigarette case.

"There!" he said; "I'll join them down the garden now. Which is the way?"

"I'll take you," said Tom; and just as Mrs Fidler entered, followed by the maid to clear away, Sam struck a wax-match, lit his cigarette, and walked out into the little hall and out into the porch, followed by Tom.