"Is my uncle at home, Matthew?" he said.
"Mr. Prosper, Mr. Harry? Well, no; I can't say that he just is;" and the
old man groaned, and wheezed, and looked unhappy.
"He is not often out at this time." Matthew groaned again, and wheezed
more deeply, and looked unhappier. "I suppose you mean to say that he
has given orders that I am not to be admitted?" To this the butler made
no answer, but only looked woefully into the young man's face. "What is
the meaning of it all, Matthew?"
"Oh, Mr. Harry, you shouldn't ask me, as is merely a servant."
Harry felt the truth of this rebuke, but was not going to put up with
it.
"That's all my eye, Matthew; you know all about it as well as any one.
It is so. He does not want to see me."
"I don't think he does, Mr. Harry."
"And why not? You know the whole of my family story as well as my
father does, or my uncle. Why does he shut his doors against me, and
send me word that he does not want to see me?"
"Well Mr. Harry, I'm not just able to say why he does it,--and you the
heir. But if I was asked I should make answer that it has come along of
them sermons." Then Matthew looked very serious, and bathed his head.
"I suppose so."
"That was it, Mr. Harry. We, none of us, were very fond of the sermons.
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