lf, but there was something which
made him afraid to ask. It was as if he was going to commit some
sacrilege.

At last the children were left to themselves. No big people were
present. Then Axel asked if they had ever heard of Uncle Reuben.

He saw how all the eyes flashed and that many small fists were
clenched, but it seemed as if the little mouths had been taught
respect for Uncle Reuben. "Hush!" said the whole crowd.

"No!" said Axel; "I want to know if there is any one else whom he
tortures, for I think he is the most troublesome of all uncles."

That one brave word broke the dam which had held in the indignation
of those tormented childhearts. There was a great murmuring and
shouting. So must a crowd of nihilists look when they revile an
autocrat.

The poor, great man's register of sins was unrolled. Uncle Reuben
persecuted the children of all his brothers and sisters. Uncle
Reuben died wherever he chose. Uncle Reuben was always the same age
as the child whose peace he wished to disturb.

And they had to show respect to him, although he was quite plainly
a liar. They might hate him in the most silent depths of their
heart, but overlook him or show him disrespect, no, then they were
stopped.

What an air the old people put on when they spoke of him! Had he
ever really done anything so wonderful? To sit down and die was
nothing so surprising. And whatever great thing he may have done,
it was certain that he was now abusing his power. He opposed the
children in everything that they wanted to do, the old scarecrow.
He drove them from a noonday nap in the grass. He had discovered
their best hiding places in the park and forbidden them to go
there. His last performance was to ride on barebacked horses and to
drive in the hay-rigging.

They were all sure that the poor thing had never been more than
three years old. And now he fell upon the big children of fourteen
and insisted that he was their age. It was the most provoking thing.

It was perfectly incredible what came to light about him. He had
fished from the dam; he had rowed in the little flat-bottomed boat;
he had climbed up in the willow which hangs over the water, and in
which it was so nice to sit; yes, he had even slept on the powder-horn.

But they were all certain that there was no escape from his
tyranny. It was a relief to have spoken out, but not a remedy. They
could not rebel against Uncle Reuben.

You never would have believed it, but when