it. America is a part of
every young man's education. You ought to go there, Freddie."

"Rummily enough," said Freddie, "I was saying just before you came in
that I had half a mind to pop over. Only it's rather a bally fag,
starting. Getting your luggage packed and all that sort of thing."

Nelly, whose luggage consisted of one small trunk, heaved a silent
sigh. Mingling with the idle rich carried its penalties.

"America," said Uncle Chris, "taught me poker, for which I can never
be sufficiently grateful. Also an exotic pastime styled Craps--or,
alternatively, 'rolling the bones'--which in those days was a very
present help in time of trouble. At Craps, I fear, my hand in late
years has lost much of its cunning. I have had little opportunity of
practising. But as a young man I was no mean exponent of the art. Let
me see," said Uncle Chris meditatively. "What was the precise ritual?
Ah! I have it, 'Come, little seven!'"

"'Come, eleven!'" exclaimed Nelly excitedly.

"'Baby....' I feel convinced that in some manner the word baby entered
into it."

"'Baby needs new shoes!'"

"'Baby needs new shoes!' Precisely!"

"It sounds to me," said Freddie, "dashed silly."

"Oh, no!" cried Nelly reproachfully.

"Well, what I mean is, there's no sense in it, don't you know."

"It is a noble pursuit," said Uncle Chris firmly. "Worthy of the great
nation that has produced it. No doubt, when I return to America, I
shall have opportunities of recovering my lost skill."

"You aren't returning to America," said Jill. "You're going to stay
safe at home like a good little uncle. I'm not going to have you
running wild all over the world at your age."

"Age?" declaimed Uncle Chris. "What is my age? At the present moment I
feel in the neighbourhood of twenty-one, and Ambition is tapping me on
the shoulder and whispering 'Young man, go West!' The years are
slipping away from me, my dear Jill--slipping so quickly that in a few
minutes you will be wondering why my nurse does not come to fetch me.
The wanderlust is upon me. I gaze around me at all this prosperity in
which I am lapped," said Uncle Chris, eyeing the arm-chair severely,
"all this comfort and luxury which swaddles me, and I feel staggered.
I want activity. I want to be braced!"

"You would hate it," said Jill composedly. "You know you're the
laziest old darling in the world."

"Exactly what I am endeavouring to point out. I _am_ lazy. Or, I was
till this morning."

"