Dick was just going to join them when Uncle Abram, who was fumigating his rose-trees and enjoying his pipe at the same time, made him a signal, as he called it, and asked him if he would like to see Will's room. "Well," said the old man, after a good deal of scratching with the red waxed end of his tobacco pipe. "I s'pose you're right, Master Richard, sir. I say don't tell Will, because he's so modest like, and don't want people to know; and, I say, don't tell his aunt, because she's so particular like with him, and if she know'd all, she'd think he was neglecting his regular work, and that if he could find time, you see, for doing this sort of thing, he could be doing more to the boats. But I don't see why your brother should not know, and I don't hold with a lad keeping anything from his father." "And who wants to keep anything from his father?" said Mr Temple, who was just passing the window on his return. "What is it?" he continued, entering the room. "Oh, nothing, sir; only I was going to show Master Richard here our Will's room, and I was asking him to be a bit secret like for the lad's sake. Mrs Marion, you see, is a--" "Oh, yes, I understand," said Mr Temple. "May I come too?" "If you please, sir," said the old man smiling. "It's in your way rather, you see, both of you being a bit fond of chip-chopping stones; not that there's many up there now, for you see his aunt makes the lad clear 'em away now and then. Won't have the litter, she says. But I've got 'em all in a box down in my toolshed, where the boy can have 'em when he likes." "Let's go and see his room, then," said Mr Temple, smiling. "'Tarn't much of a place, sir, being a garret," said Uncle Abram apologetically; "but lads as goes to sea has snugger quarters sometimes than our Will's." He put his pipe back in his mouth--it was out now--and held it steady as he led the way to a door in a corner at the end of the passage, and up a very steep flight of stairs to a little room with sloping ceiling, over the kitchen. "I had this knocked up for the lad o' purpose," said Uncle Abram proudly. "Made it as like a cabin as I could, meaning him to be sea-going, you understand, sir, only he's drifting away from it like. Why, bless your heart, though, Mr Temple, sir, I never find no fault with him, for there's stuff enough in him, I think, to make a real lord-mayor. There: there's our Will's room." He stood smiling as the visitors had a good look round the scrupulously clean little cabin-like bed-room with lockers and a swinging shelf of books, and everything arranged with a neatness that was most notable. "Those are his books, sir. Spends a deal of time over 'em." "Novels and romances, eh?" said Mr Temple, going to the shelf. "Why, hullo! Fowne's _Chemistry_, Smyth's _Mineralogy_, Murchison's _Geology_. Rather serious reading for him, isn't it?"