hat is a private matter."

"I don't know that it is so very private, Jack. And, anyway, I'd like
you to know the truth,--otherwise you might get a wrong impression--if
you heard the story from outsiders. In a nutshell, the matter is this:
Some years ago my father and his Uncle Barney were connected with a
certain manufacturing company in which both held a considerable
interest. The company went to pieces, and my father and Uncle Barney
both lost their money. But my father had other interests which were
distantly connected with this company, and in some manner poor old Uncle
Barney, who was not much of a business man even though he was a
lumberman, got it into his head that my father had, in some manner,
gotten the best of him, because my father had money and he had not.
Then, in the midst of this trouble, Uncle Barney's wife died. My father
was away in the West at the time with my mother, and could not get back
in time for the funeral. This made Uncle Barney more bitter than ever,
and he refused to listen to any explanations my folks might make. He had
made some sort of deal to get possession of Snowshoe Island in Lake
Monona, and he retired to the island and became almost a hermit."

"Yes, he told us he lived on the island, and he invited us to come over
there, and he would show us some good hunting. I suppose it must be
quite a place."

"My father has tried several times to patch up matters with old Uncle
Barney, but he will not listen to any explanations. He is rather queer
at times, and I suppose he has it strongly fixed in his mind that my
father is in some manner responsible for his poverty, and that we think
ourselves too high-toned to have anything to do with him, when, as a
matter of fact, my folks would be very much pleased to have the old man
become friends and live with them."

"Why doesn't your father send him a letter if he won't listen to his
talk?"

"He has tried that. And mother has written old Uncle Barney some
letters, too, during the last six or eight years. But he is very
peculiar, and the letters come back unopened."

"And you really feel that you would like to be on good terms with him?"

"Yes, Jack. My folks would give a good deal to smooth the whole matter
over. But, instead of becoming reconciled to the situation, old Uncle
Barney apparently is becoming more bitter as time goes by."

"If you and your folks feel that way about it, I'd like very much to
meet the old man again and have a