I have supper at nine, by which hour you will, of course, have returned." Charlie, as he ate his meal, thought to himself that his uncle was a pompous old gentleman, and that it would be very hard work getting on with him, for the next three weeks.

However, he consoled himself by the thought: "Kind is as kind does after all, and I expect the old gentleman is not as crusty as he looks." Charlie had handed to Mr.Tufton a letter which his mother had given him, and when he returned from a ramble through the streets, he found that gentleman sitting by the fire, with lights upon a small table beside him.

Upon this Mrs.Marryat's letter lay open.
"So you have soon become tired of the streets of London, Grandnephew!" he said.
"There is not much to see, sir.

The lamps do not burn very brightly, and the fog is coming on.

I thought that, if it grew thicker, I might lose my way, and in that case I might not have been in at the hour you named for supper." "Humph!" the other gentleman grunted.