n related
to me in some way I should have missed a pleasant intimacy. I should
probably very seldom see her if she were the daughter of a casual
acquaintance, and when I did see her she would be shy, perhaps, or pert.
I should almost certainly be awkward. I am, I regret to say, fifty years
of age. Kitty is just sixteen. Some kind of relationship is necessary if
there is to be real friendship between an elderly man and a young girl
Uncles, if they did not exist in nature, would have to be invented for
the sake of people like Kitty and myself.

I see Kitty twice a year regularly. She and her mother come to town at
Christmas time for shopping. They stay at my house. In summer I spend
my three weeks holiday with my sister who lives all the year round in a
seaside place which most people regard as a summer resort. She does this
on account of the delicate health of her husband, who suffers from an
obscure nervous disease. If I were Kitty's father I should probably have
a nervous disorder, too.

In December I am master of the situation. I treat Kitty exactly as an
uncle ought to treat a niece. I take her to theatres and picture houses.
I feed her at irregular hours on sweet, unwholesome food. I buy her
presents and allow her to choose them. Kitty, as my guest, behaves
as well as any niece could. She is respectful, obedient, and always
delighted with the entertainments I provide for her. In summer--Kitty
being then the hostess and I the guest--things are different. She
considers it her duty to amuse me. Her respect for me vanishes. I am the
one who is obedient; but I am not always delighted at the entertainments
she provides. She means well, but she is liable to forget that a
stiff-limbed bachelor of fifty prefers quiet to strenuous sports.

One morning during the second week of my last holiday Kitty came down
late for breakfast. She is often late for breakfast and she never
apologises. I daresay she is right. Most of us are late for breakfast,
when we are late, because we are lazy and stay too long in bed. It is
impossible to think of Kitty being lazy. She always gets up early and
is only late for breakfast because she has had time to find some
enthralling occupation before breakfast is ready. Breakfast and the rest
of the party ought to apologise to her for not being ready sooner. It is
really we who keep her waiting. She was dressed that morning in a blue
cotton frock, at least two inches longer than the frocks she used to