moment to allow him to explain, not only
his intentions, but the means by which he carried them out, in his own
words.

It was one afternoon at the end of his usual solitary lesson, and the
master and Uncle Ben were awaiting the arrival of Rupert. Uncle Ben's
educational progress lately, through dint of slow tenacity, had somewhat
improved, and he had just completed from certain forms and examples in
a book before him a "Letter to a Consignee" informing him that he, Uncle
Ben, had just shipped "2 cwt. Ivory Elephant Tusks, 80 peculs of rice
and 400bbls. prime mess pork from Indian Spring;" and another beginning
"Honored Madam," and conveying in admirably artificial phraseology the
"lamented decease" of the lady's husband from yellow fever, contracted
on the Gold Coast, and Uncle Ben was surveying his work with critical
satisfaction when the master, somewhat impatiently, consulted his watch.
Uncle Ben looked up.

"I oughter told ye that Rupe didn't kalkilate to come to day."

"Indeed--why not?"

"I reckon because I told him he needn't. I allowed to--to hev a little
private talk with ye, Mr. Ford, if ye didn't mind."

Mr. Ford's face did not shine with invitation. "Very well," he said,
"only remember I have an engagement this afternoon."

"But that ain't until about sundown," said Uncle Ben quietly. "I won't
keep ye ez long ez that."

Mr. Ford glanced quickly at Uncle Ben with a rising color. "What do you
know of my engagements?" he said sharply.

"Nothin', Mr. Ford," returned Uncle Ben simply; "but hevin' bin layin'
round, lookin' for ye here and at the hotel for four or five days allus
about that time and not findin' you, I rather kalkilated you might hev
suthin' reg'lar on hand."

There was certainly nothing in his face or manner to indicate the least
evasion or deceit, or indeed anything but his usual naivete, perhaps a
little perturbed and preoccupied by what he was going to say. "I had an
idea of writin' you a letter," he continued, "kinder combinin' practice
and confidential information, you know. To be square with you, Mr. Ford,
in pint o' fact, I've got it HERE. But ez it don't seem to entirely gibe
with the facts, and leaves a heap o' things onsaid and onseen, perhaps
it's jest ez wall ez I read it to you myself--putten' in a word here and
there, and explainin' it gin'rally. Do you sabe?"

The master nodded, and Uncle Ben drew from his desk a rude portfolio
made from the two covers of a dilapidated a