He rose as he spoke. His uncle caught him by the arm, laughing, and
made him sit down again; which he did with real or pretended
reluctance.

"We'll take care of you, Percy. Never mind.--Don't be a fool," he
added, seeing the evident annoyance of the young fellow.

"Well, uncle, you ought to have known better," said Percy, sulkily,
as, yielding, he resumed his seat, and poured himself out a bumper of
claret, by way of consolation.

He had not been much of a companion before: now he made himself almost
as unpleasant as a young man could be, and that is saying a great
deal. One, certainly, had need to have found something beautiful at
church, for here was the prospect of as wretched a Christmas dinner as
one could ever wish to avoid.

When Percy had drunk another bumper of claret, he rose and left the
room; and my host, turning to me, said:

"I fear, Smith, you will have anything but a merry Christmas, this
year. I hoped the sight of you would cheer up poor Adela, and set us
all right. And now Percy's out of humour at the thought of his mother
coming, and I'm sure I don't know what's to be done. We shall sit over
our dinner to-day like four crows over a carcass. It's very good of
you to stop."

"Oh! never mind me," I said. "I, too, can take care of myself. But has
Adela no companions of her own age?"