with the
curtains pulled down, as if Robert's going into eternal bliss, was a
thing to turn yourself into a wailing dungeon over;" and, ending his
mutterings with a revengeful snap of the gate, he stamped fiercely up
the walk, scattering the gravel right and left, and scaring a stray cat
almost into fits, by the way he swung his cane at her. Something in the
looks of the house when he glanced up, brought him to a sudden stand
still. The blinds were all open, with the sun shining warmly on the
glass, one window was thrown up, and through it came the merry whistle
of a bird, giving forth a musical defiance to the coming of winter, and
when Mr. Congreve rather slowly opened the front door, there met him a
warm, cheery odor, and,--yes, actually; some one laughed upstairs! In
the sitting-room a jolly fire leaped and shone in the shining grate, the
piano stood open, the room was full of sunshine, and under Mr. Dering's
large portrait, was a bracket, and there on it, a graceful little vase
filled with pansys and a tea-rose, from Jean's little window garden in
the dining-room.

Mr. Congreve gave a surprised and emphatic "humph," and tramped away to
his own room, which was in apple-pie order, then tramped back, without
having seen any one but Huldah flying around on the back porch.

Presently Jean came through the hall, and seeing him sitting there and
frowning at the fire, as though trying to study out some new and
astonishing puzzle, she stopped at the stairs to call,--"Mr. Congreve is
here, mama."

"Humph! _Mr. Congreve_, if I ever, if I ever," exclaimed that gentleman,
with some energy, and whirling about in his seat.

"Come here, Jeanie; here's your candy."

It really was quite astonishing how his voice could change when he spoke
to her, and how his face brightened when she came in without hesitation
and received the package with a pleased,--"Thank you, sir."

"Well, I declare,--quite right, to be sure; but don't you know who I am,
and what my name is?"

"Yes, sir, you're my papa's uncle, and your name is Mr. Congreve,"
answered Jean, just a little startled at being lifted on to his knee,
and having his arm around her.

"So I am, to be sure; quite true; but if I'm your papa's uncle, I'm your
great-uncle, and there isn't such an immense amount of difference; don't
you suppose you had better call me Uncle Ridley, as he did?"

"Why, I don't know, perhaps I had. I'll ask mama," answered Jean in
earnest simplicity.