"Tells me he's spent all his money on women!"
My uncle Jervas very nearly dropped his eyeglass.
"Now--'pon my everlasting--" his voice failed and he gazed at me quite
dumbfounded for once.
"Think o' Julia!" said uncle George, with a kind of groan. "Think
of--'Ode to a Throstle'--poor Julia--sweet soul!" My two uncles turned
from my indignant form to regard each other; then, all at once, the
grim lips of my uncle Jervas twitched, quivered to a flash of white
teeth, but his laughter was drowned by uncle George's cachinnations
where he stood on one leg, slapping at the other brawny thigh until
the dust flew.
"Sirs," said I, folding my arms and glancing from one to other
disdainfully, "your mirth is as unwarranted as unseemly! The money in
question was expended in the service of--of one who--whose need was
instant and great. I have the honour to bid you good-bye!"
But, as I turned, my uncle Jervas laid his hand on my arm, a white,
elegant hand strangely out of place on my rough and weather-beaten
coat-sleeve.
"Pray accept our sincerest apologies, Peregrine," said he. Now at this
I glanced up in wondering surprise, for in the touch of this slim
hand, in voice and look, I had an indefinable sense of comradeship
that thrilled me with sudden pride.
"My dear Uncle," I exclaimed, grasping his hand, "pray trust me always
to remember that I am a Vereker also."
"B'gad, and there ye have it, Jervas; couldn't ha' put it better
yourself!"
"And pray, sirs, how is my dear and best of aunts?"
At this question my uncle Jervas pursed his lips in a soundless
whistle and smoothed snowy shirt-frill with caressing fingers.
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