er conscience was clear--as in rousing an unprepared mind to the
hearing of it. Uncle Mo, quite the reverse of apathetic to anything that
concerned the well-being of any of his surroundings, probably accounted
Aunt M'riar's as second to none but the children's. Nevertheless, the
difficulty of rousing him to an active interest in this hidden
embarrassment of hers, of which he had no suspicion, was so palpable to
Aunt M'riar, that she was sorely put to it to decide on a course of
action. And the necessity for action was not imaginary. Keep in mind
that all Uncle Mo's knowledge of Aunt M'riar's antecedents was summed up
in the fact of her widowhood, which he took for granted--although he had
never received it _totidem verbis_ when she first came to supplant Mrs.
Twiggins--and which had been confirmed as Time went on, and no husband
appeared to claim her. Even if he could have suspected that her husband
was still living, there was nothing in the world to connect him with
this escaped convict. No wonder Uncle Mo's complete unconsciousness
seemed to present an impassable barrier to a revelation. Aunt M'riar had
not the advantages of the Roman confessional, with its suggestive
_guichet_. Had some penitent, deprived of that resource, been driven
back on the analogous arrangement of a railway booking-office, the
difficulty of introducing the subject could scarcely have been greater.

However, Aunt M'riar was not going to be left absolutely without
assistance. That evening--the evening, that is, of the day when Dave
told the tale of the Man in the Park--Uncle Moses showed an unusual
restlessness, following on a period of thoughtfulness and silence. After
supper he said suddenly:--"I'm a-going to take a turn out, M'riar. Any
objection?"

"None o' my making, Mo. Only Mr. Jerry, he'll be round. What's to be
told him?"

"Ah--I'll tell you. Just you say to Jerry--just you tell him...."

"What'll I tell him?" For Uncle Mo appeared to waver.

"Just you tell him to drop in at The Sun, and bide till I come. They've
a sing-song going on to-night, with the pianner. He'll make hisself
happy for an hour. I'll be round in an hour's time, tell him."

"And where are you off for all of an hour, Mo?"

"That's part of the p'int, M'riar. Don't you be too inquis-eye-tive....
No--I don't mind tellin' of ye, if it's partic'lar. I'm going to drop
round to the Station to shake hands with young Simmun Rowe--they've made
him Inspector there--he's my