e a worrying man, even over
such a serious accident as green bugs.

"Your roses don't seem to mind, Mr. Oliver," I said. "They are the
finest I have ever seen."

The compliment to his roses, well-deserved as it was, did not at first
engage his attention. He pretended to frown at me.

"Don't get into any bad habit of mistering me, Master," he said.
"You'd better begin by calling me Uncle Dick from the start and then
you won't have the trouble of changing. Because it would come to
that--it always does. But come in, come in! There's a gate round here.
I want to get acquainted with you. I have a taste for schoolmasters. I
didn't possess it when I was a boy" (a glint of fun appeared in his
blue eyes). "It's an acquired taste."

I accepted his invitation and went, not only into his garden but, as
was proved later, into his confidence and affection. He linked his arm
with mine and piloted me about to show me his pets.

"I potter about this garden considerable," he said. "It pleases the
women folks to have lots of posies."

I laughed, for Uncle Dick was a bachelor and considered to be a
hopeless one.

"Don't laugh, Master," he said, pressing my arm. "I've no woman folk
of my own about me now, 'tis true. But all the girls in the district
come to Uncle Dick when they want flowers for their little diversions.
Besides--perhaps--sometimes--"

Uncle Dick broke off and stood in a brown study, looking at an old
stump aflame with nasturtiums for fully three minutes. Later on I was
to learn the significance of that pause and reverie.

I spent the whole evening with Uncle Dick. After we had explored the
garden he took me into his house and into his "den." The house was a
small white one and wonderfully neat inside, considering the fact that
Uncle Dick was his own housekeeper. His "den" was a comfortable place,
its one window so shadowed by a huge poplar that the room had a
grotto-like effect of emerald gloom. I came to know it well, for, at
Uncle Dick's invitation, I did my studying there and browsed at will
among his classics. We soon became close friends. Uncle Dick had
always "chummed with the masters," as he said, but our friendship
went deeper. For my own part, I preferred his company to that of any
young man I knew. There was a perennial spring of youth in Uncle
Dick's soul that yet had all the fascinating flavour of ripe
experience. He was clever, kindly, humorous and, withal, so crystal
clear of mind and heart that an