rge of imbecility--but bear with me. I am at least
harmless.'

'Of course we know you're really rather clever,' said Hazel, 'but you
_are_ stupid about some things--you never interfere, whatever people
do!'

'Don't I, really?' said their uncle, as he disposed himself on his back,
and tilted his hat over his nose; 'you do surprise me! What a mistake
for a man to make, who has come down for perfect quiet! Whom shall I
begin to interfere with?'

'Well, you might snub that horrid Tinling boy, instead of encouraging
him, as you always do!'

'Encourage him! He's got a fine flow of martial enthusiasm, and a good
supply of military terms, and I listen when he gives me long accounts of
thrilling engagements, when he came out uncommonly strong--and the
enemy, so far as I can gather, never came out at all. I'm passive,
because I can't help myself; and then he amuses me in his way--that's
all.'

'Do you believe he's brave, uncle?'

'I only know that I saw him kill two wasps with his teaspoon,' was the
reply. 'They don't award the Victoria Cross for it--but it's a thing I
couldn't have done myself.'

'I should hope not!' exclaimed Hilary; 'but everybody knows you're a
coward,' she added (she did not intend this remark to be taken
seriously), 'and you're awfully lazy. Still, there are some things you
might do!'

'If that means fielding long-leg till tea-time, I respectfully disagree.
Irreverent girls, have you never been taught that a digesting uncle is a
very solemn and sacred thing?'

'Now you are going to be idiotic again! But as to cricket--why, you must
know that we never get a game now! And next summer I shall be too old to
play!'

'I _never_ mean to be too old for cricket,' said Hilary, with
conviction; 'but we've had none for weeks, uncle, positive weeks!'

'Quite right, too!' observed Uncle Lambert, sleepily. 'Not a game for
girls--only spoil your hands--do you think I want a set of nieces with
paws like so many glovers' signs?'

'That's utter nonsense,' said Hazel, calmly, 'because we always play in
gloves. Mother makes us. At least, when we did play. Now the boys will
only play soldiers, and, if they do happen to be inclined for a set at
tennis, Clarence comes up and orders them off as pickets or outposts, or
something!'

'But he's not Bismarck or Boulanger, is he? I always understood this was
a free country.'

'You know what Guy and Jack are--they can't bear their visitor to think
he isn't welcome.'