-

"Oh, uncle! you don't think I want to go back?"

"You were asking eagerly enough about it just now."

"Yes--because--I--that is--oh, uncle, don't be cross with me; I can't
help it."

"No, I suppose not, Tom."

"But you don't understand me. I don't want to leave here; I wouldn't go
back to London on any consideration. I--there, I must say it, I--I--
there, I hate Uncle James."

"What!" said Uncle Richard, looking at the boy curiously. "You are
never happy without you are along with him."

"But that's because he is ill, and I thought you wanted me to be
attentive to him."

"Oh!"

"Yes, that's it, uncle. He never liked me, and always used to be cross
with me, and now when he's very bad he's always so fond of me, and keeps
me with him, so that I can't get away, and--and I don't like it at all."

"That's curious, isn't it, Tom?"

"Yes, uncle, I suppose it is, and I can't make it out. I don't
understand it a bit. It's because he is ill, I suppose, and is sorry he
used to be so rough with me. I wish he would get quite well and go back
to London."

"Humph! And you would rather not go up to attend to him?"

"I'd go if you ordered me to, but I should be very miserable if I had
to--worse than I am now. But, uncle, I am doing my best."

"Of course, Tom. There, I did not mean it, my boy. You are doing your
duty admirably to your invalid relative. I hope we both are; and sick
people's fancies are to be studied. I don't think though you need be
quite so blunt, Master Blount, though," added Uncle Richard, smiling.

"I'll try not to be, uncle."

"And talk about hating people. Rather rough kind of Christianity that,
Tom."

"I beg your pardon, it slipped out. I hope I don't hate him."

"So do I, my lad. There, go and do everything you can for him while he
stays. He is certainly much better, and fancies now that he is worse
than he is."

"I'll do everything I can, uncle," said Tom eagerly.

"I know you will, my boy; and as soon as we have set him on his legs
again, you and I will grind the new speculum. The case with the two
discs came down this afternoon while you were out with the chair."

"Oh!" cried Tom eagerly. "You haven't unpacked them without me, uncle?"

"No, and I do not mean to. We'll leave them where they are till our
visitor has gone, and then we shall have to work like black-fellows to
make up for lost time."

"Yes, uncle," cried Tom, rubbing his hands.

"No; like white-f