a pity that Patrick is so fond of
mischief, when he seems to have such a kind heart?'

"'I've always liked that boy Patrick,' said my uncle; 'and, what is
more,' he continued, as if to himself, 'I never liked Alfred.'

"'That is very strange, uncle,' I replied; 'he is such a polite boy, and
so quiet in the drawing-room. He is so funny too; he nearly set me off
laughing at the funny faces he made behind his aunt's back; and he can
speak just like her, in that queer low drawling tone.'

"'Exactly,' said my uncle; 'that is the very thing I dislike about him.
He has the power of mimicry, and is also able to keep a grave face when
others are forced to laugh--a thing poor Patrick is not able to do, and
the consequence is he gets into sad disgrace for laughing, and, to save
his brother, won't tell what he is laughing at. Alfred is a mean boy,
for twice I have seen him allow his brother to be punished, when, by
simply telling he was the cause of it, the punishment might have been
avoided. Now, who do you think was the actual culprit who cut that nice
table in the summer-house?'

"'It must have been Patrick, uncle; he never denied it,' I replied.

"'That is the strange thing, dear. Patrick is greatly to blame in this,
that he will not tell upon his brother, but is so easy-minded, that,
rather than exert himself to make his friends think well of him, he
allows every one to suppose that he is the offender; and, as I said
before, Alfred is so mean, that, knowing this, he plays the tricks and
lets his brother take the blame. A tale-teller is to be despised; but a
boy who is so lazy that he cannot say a good word for himself when his
character is concerned, is almost as bad.'

"'But how did you find all this out, uncle?' I inquired.

"'Well, I overheard the two boys speaking about it in the shrubbery; and
what struck me most was, even when Patrick had an opportunity to reprove
his younger brother he did not do so, though a good word costs nothing,
and might save his brother much misery in the end. I am half glad he has
met with this accident; it will give him time to think.'

"At this moment a boat sailed past, filled with gay company, who waved
their handkerchiefs to us, and cheered most lustily. One little girl
held up her doll, and made it wave its hat to Uncle John's polite bow,
which made them all laugh very much.

"Dolly was very glad to see me again, and said so kindly that she had
never spent such a long, dull day, a