grew more puzzled as to whether the eccentricity was real or
assumed. But he soon had something else to think of, for five minutes
after a run through a wild bit of Surrey, that looked gloriously
attractive with its sandy cuttings, commons, and fir-trees, to a boy who
had been shut up closely for months in London, his uncle suddenly cried,
"Here we are!" and rose to get his umbrella and overcoat out of the
rack.

"Let's see, Tom," he said; "six packages in the van, haven't we? Mind
that nothing is left behind."

The train was slackening speed, and the next minute they were standing
on the platform of a pretty attractive station, quite alone amongst the
fir-trees. The station-master's house was covered with roses and
clematis, and he and the porters were evidently famous gardeners in
their loneliness, for there was not a house near, the board up giving
the name of the station as Furzebrough Road.

"Shall I take the luggage, sir?" said a man, touching his hat; and at
the same moment Tom caught sight of a solitary fly standing outside the
railings.

"Yes; six packages. By the way, Mr Day, did a box come down for me?"

This to the station-master, who came up as the train glided off and
disappeared in a tunnelled sandhill a hundred yards farther.

"Yes, sir; very heavy box, marked `Glass, with care.' Take it with
you?"

"Yes, and let it be with care. Here, I'll come and pay the rates. Tom,
my lad, see that the things are all got to the fly."

Tom nodded; and as his uncle disappeared in the station-master's office,
he went to where the two porters were busy with a barrow and the
luggage.

They were laughing and chatting with the flyman, and did not notice
Tom's approach, so that he winced as he heard one of the porters say--

"Always some fresh contrapshum or another. Regular old lunatic, that's
what he is."

"What's he going to do with that old mill?" said the other.

"Shoot the moon they--Is this all, sir?" said the flyman, who caught
sight of Tom.

The boy nodded, and felt indignant as well as troubled, for he had
learned a little about public opinion concerning his uncle.

"Be careful," he said; "some of those things are glass."

"All right, sir; we'll be careful enough. Look alive, Jem. Where will
you have the box as come down by's mornin's goods?"

"On the footboard. Won't break us down, will it?"

"Tchah! not it. On'y about a hundredweight."

By the time the luggage was stowed on and