ir, and everything's ready, sir."

Just then a sun-browned man, with a blue serge apron rolled up and
tucked in round his waist, came up, touched his hat, and looked at the
luggage.

"Morning, David. The box and portmanteau for indoors. The boxes to be
very carefully placed in the coach-house. Glass, mind. Here, driver,
give your horse some hay and water; David will see to it, while you go
round to the kitchen for a crust of bread-and-cheese. Mind and be
careful with those packages."

"Oh yes, sir, certainly," said the man; and he led the horse on amongst
the shrubs; while as Tom followed his uncle into the prettily-furnished
museum-like hall, he thought to himself--

"I wonder whether uncle knows how they laugh at him behind his back."

"Dinner at two, Mrs Fidler, I suppose?" said Uncle Richard just then.

"Yes, sir, precisely, if _you_ please," was the reply.

"That's right. Here, Tom, let's go and see if they have smashed the
glass in the packages."

Uncle Richard led the way out through a glass door, and across a velvety
lawn, to a gate in a closely-clipped yew hedge. This opened upon a
well-gravelled yard, where the rusty-looking old fly was standing, with
its horse comfortably munching at the contents of its nose-bag, and
David the gardener looking on with a pail of water at his feet.

"Why, David, how was it that the horse was not put in the stable and
given a feed?"

"He's having his feed, sir," said the gardener. "Them's our oats. The
driver said he'd rather not take him out, because the harness do give
so, sir, specially the traces; so he had the nose-bag pretty well
filled, and the horse have been going at 'em, sir, tremenjus."

"Boxes all right?"

"Yes, sir; I don't think we've broke anything; but that big chest did
come down pretty heavy."

"What?" cried his master; and he hurried into the coach-house to examine
the packing-case. "Humph! I hope they have not broken it," he
muttered; "I won't stop to open it now. Come, Tom, we'll just walk
round the garden, so that you may see my domain, and then I'll show you
your room."

The domain proved to be a fairly extensive garden in the most perfect
order, and Tom stared at the tokens of abundance. Whether he was gazing
at fruit or flowers, it was the same: the crop looked rich and tempting
in the extreme.

"We won't stop now, my lad. Let's go and see if Mrs F. has put your
room ready."

Uncle Richard led the way, with Tom feasting