"Not a bad part of the country," said Sam condescendingly; "but who does uncle find to talk to? Precious few decent houses."

"There are plenty," said Tom; "but they are a good way off. There's uncle at the bottom of the field."

"So I see," said Sam. "I have eyes in my head. Humph! flowers.

Halloo! raspberries!"

He stepped off the green path they were on to where several rows of neatly-tied-up raspberry canes crossed the garden, and began to pull the ruddy thimbles off the tiny white cones upon which they grew; while David, who was on the other side busy removing young pear-tree shoots from the wall, stared at him aghast.

"Who's that fellow?" said Sam, as he took a whiff, then a raspberry, alternately.

"Our gardener."

"_Our_, eh? Well, tell him to go on with his work. What's he staring at?"

"You," said Tom bluntly.

Sam gave him a sharp look and returned to the path, bore off to his right, and began to examine the trained fruit trees on the wall.

"Pears, peaches, nectarines, apricots, plums," said Sam coolly. "Why, they're all green and unripe. No, they're not; here's an apricot looks ready."

David uttered a gasp, for the young visitor stepped on to the neat border and took hold of the yellow apricot, whose progress the gardener had been watching for days, gave it a tug, and broke off the twig which bore it.

"Bah!" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, as he dragged away the twig and a wall-nail and shred. "Why, the wretched thing isn't ripe."

He spat out the mouthful he had taken between his lips, and jerked the bitten fruit out over the hedge into the lane.

"Well," muttered David, as the two lads went on, "I do call that imperdence. Wonder what master would ha' said if he'd seen."

"Master" had seen his nephew's act as he came from the other side of the field with his brother leaning upon his arm, but he made no remark respecting it.

"You would like to have a chat now with your boy about business, eh, James?"

"Oh, there's nothing to talk about," said Sam carelessly. "Everything is all right. I have seen to that. I kept Pringle pretty well up to his work."

"Poor old Pringle!" thought Tom. "I ought to write to him."

"Sam is right," said the lad's father; "and--and--oh, dear me, how weak I feel! I don't want to be troubled about business. Take me in now, d.i.c.k."

"Come along, then," said his brother good-humouredly. "Tom, my lad, you'd better show your cousin about the place, and try and interest him."

"All right, uncle," was the reply; and the two boys stood watching the brothers going towards the house.

"I don't know that I want to be shown about," said Sam haughtily. "I'm not a child. You country people seem to think that we want to see your cabbages and things. Here, let's go and look at the windmill. I say, did they have a row about it?"

"What--Uncle James and Uncle Richard?"

"Of course, stupid; who did you think I meant?"

"How could they have a row about the observatory?"

"I said windmill, stupid."

"It's an observatory now," said Tom coldly.

"Observatory! Yes; it looks it. The gov'nor was awfully wild about it.

Nice brother, he said, to go and take the legal business to some one else instead of to our office. There, come along."

"I must get the keys first."

"Keys? Why, I thought you were all so beautifully innocent, that you never locked up anything in the country."

"But we do," said Tom. "Wait a minute. I'll soon be back."

"Don't hurry yourself, b.u.mpkin. I'll have some more raspberries."

"I should like to b.u.mpkin him," thought Tom, as he ran in, got the keys, and hurried back to where Sam was "worrying the rarsps," as David afterwards indignantly said; and then the boys walked together out into the lane, and from thence through the gate into the mill-yard.

"Do you ever come here with him moon-shooting?" said Sam contemptuously.

"Uncle has not been doing any astronomy lately," replied Tom; and feeling that he could not chat about their private life, he refrained from saying anything about the work upon which they had been engaged, but contented himself with showing the workshop, and then leading the way into the laboratory.

"What do you do here?" said Sam, looking contemptuously round.

"This is the laboratory."

"Dear me, how fine we are! What's in these bottles on the shelves?"

"Chemicals."

"That your desk where you do your lessons?"

"No; that's uncle's bureau where he keeps his papers. We're going to have another table, and some chemistry and astronomical books up soon.

Uncle says that he shall make this an extra study."

"Keeps his papers, eh? His will too, I suppose?"

"I don't know," said Tom.

"Yes, you do. None of your sham with me, I know you, Master Tom. That the way up-stairs?"

"Yes," said Tom quietly; and they went on up the steps.

"Just as if you wouldn't be artful enough to know all about that. Bound to say you've read it half-a-dozen times over."

"I haven't looked in uncle's drawers, and if I had I shouldn't have read any of his papers."

"Not you, of course. Too jolly good; you are such a nice innocent sort of boy. Halloo! that the telescope? what a tuppenny-ha'penny thing."