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This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 165 pages of information about Lair of the White Worm.

Adam went quietly on with his breakfast.  Killing a few snakes in a morning was no new experience to him.  He left the room the moment breakfast was finished and went to the study that his uncle had arranged for him.  Both Sir Nathaniel and Mr. Salton took it that he wanted to be by himself, so as to avoid any questioning or talk of the visit that he was to make that afternoon.  They saw nothing further of him till about half-an-hour before dinner-time.  Then he came quietly into the smoking-room, where Mr. Salton and Sir Nathaniel were sitting together, ready dressed.

“I suppose there is no use waiting.  We had better get it over at once,” remarked Adam.

His uncle, thinking to make things easier for him, said:  “Get what over?”

There was a sign of shyness about him at this.  He stammered a little at first, but his voice became more even as he went on.

“My visit to Mercy Farm.”

Mr. Salton waited eagerly.  The old diplomatist simply smiled.

“I suppose you both know that I was much interested yesterday in the Watfords?” There was no denial or fending off the question.  Both the old men smiled acquiescence.  Adam went on:  “I meant you to see it—­both of you.  You, uncle, because you are my uncle and the nearest of my own kin, and, moreover, you couldn’t have been more kind to me or made me more welcome if you had been my own father.”  Mr. Salton said nothing.  He simply held out his hand, and the other took it and held it for a few seconds.  “And you, sir, because you have shown me something of the same affection which in my wildest dreams of home I had no right to expect.”  He stopped for an instant, much moved.

Sir Nathaniel answered softly, laying his hand on the youth’s shoulder.

“You are right, my boy; quite right.  That is the proper way to look at it.  And I may tell you that we old men, who have no children of our own, feel our hearts growing warm when we hear words like those.”

Then Adam hurried on, speaking with a rush, as if he wanted to come to the crucial point.

“Mr. Watford had not come in, but Lilla and Mimi were at home, and they made me feel very welcome.  They have all a great regard for my uncle.  I am glad of that any way, for I like them all—­much.  We were having tea, when Mr. Caswall came to the door, attended by the negro.  Lilla opened the door herself.  The window of the living-room at the farm is a large one, and from within you cannot help seeing anyone coming.  Mr. Caswall said he had ventured to call, as he wished to make the acquaintance of all his tenants, in a less formal way, and more individually, than had been possible to him on the previous day.  The girls made him welcome—­they are very sweet girls those, sir; someone will be very happy some day there—­with either of them.”

“And that man may be you, Adam,” said Mr. Salton heartily.

A sad look came over the young man’s eyes, and the fire his uncle had seen there died out.  Likewise the timbre left his voice, making it sound lonely.

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