Part 27 (2/2)
”Time he did,” said the old man. ”Look here, boy,” he continued, with galling, sneering tone in his voice. ”Go and tell your master I want to see him.”
Harry drew a long breath, and his teeth gritted together.
”I caught a splendid conger this morning,” continued Uncle Luke, giving his basket a swing, ”and I've brought your master half.”
”My master!” muttered Harry. ”Like conger-pie, boy?”
”No,” said Harry, shortly. ”More nice than wise,” said Uncle Luke.
”Always were. There, be quick. I want to see your master.”
”To see my master,” thought Harry, with a strange feeling of exasperation in his breast as he looked up at Crampton.
Crampton was looking up at him with eyes which said very clearly, ”Well, why don't you go?”
”They'll make me an errand-boy next,” said the young man to himself, as, after twisting his locket round and round like a firework, he swung himself down, ”and want me to clean the knives and boots and shoes.”
”Tell him I'm in a hurry,” said Uncle Luke, as Harry reached the door which led into the private house along a pa.s.sage built and covered with gla.s.s, by one side of what was originally a garden.
”Ah,” said Uncle Luke, going closer to old Crampton's desk, and taking down from where it rested on two bra.s.s hooks, the heavy ebony ruler.
”Nice bit o' wood that.”
”Yes, sir,” said the old clerk, in the fidgety way of a workman who objects to have his tools touched.
”Pretty weighty,” continued Uncle Luke, balancing it in his hand. ”Give a man a pretty good topper that, eh?”
”Yes, Mr Luke Vine.--I should like to give him one with it,” thought Crampton.
”Do for a constable's staff, or to kill burglars, eh?”
”Capitally, sir.”
”Hah! You don't get burglars here, though, do you?”
”No, sir; never had any yet.”
”Good job too,” said Uncle Luke, putting the ruler back in its place, greatly to Crampton's relief. ”Rather an awkward cub to lick into shape, my nephew, eh?”
”Rather, sir.”
”Well, you must lick away, Crampton--not with that ruler though,” he chuckled. ”Time something was made of him--not a bad sort of boy; but spoiled.”
”I shall do my best, Mr Luke Vine,” said Crampton dryly; ”but I must tell you candidly, sir, he's too much of the gentleman for us, and he feels it.”
”Bah!”
”Not at all the sort of young man I should have selected for a clerk.”
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