bit
distant and--er--formal to our English habit. Do all nieces and nephews
in your country do that? Is it an American custom?"

Hephzy and I looked at each other and my "niece" looked at both of us. I
could feel the blood tingling in my cheeks and forehead.

"Is it an American custom?" repeated Mr. Judson.

"I don't know," with chilling deliberation. "I am NOT an American."

The curate said "Indeed!" and had the astonishing good sense not to say
any more. Shortly afterward he said good-by.

"But I shall look forward to our threesome, Miss Morley," he declared.
"I shall count upon it in the near future."

After his departure there was a most embarrassing interval of silence.
Hephzy spoke first.

"Don't you think you had better go in now, Frances," she said. "Seems to
me you had. It's the first time you've been out at all, you know."

The young lady rose. "I am going," she said. "I am going, if you and--my
uncle--will excuse me."

That evening, after dinner, Hephzy joined me in the drawing-room. It was
a beautiful summer evening, but every shade was drawn and every shutter
tightly closed. We had, on our second evening in the rectory, suggested
leaving them open, but the housemaid had shown such shocked surprise
and disapproval that we had not pressed the point. By this time we had
learned that "privacy" was another sacred and inviolable English custom.
The rectory sat in its own ground, surrounded by high hedges; no
one, without extraordinary pains, could spy upon its inmates, but,
nevertheless, the privacy of those inmates must be guaranteed. So the
shutters were closed and the shades drawn.

"Well?" said I to Hephzy.

"Well," said Hephzy, "it's better than I was afraid it was goin' to be.
I explained that you told the folks at Bancroft's she was your niece
because 'twas the handiest thing to tell 'em, and you HAD to tell 'em
somethin'. And down here in Mayberry the same way. She understood, I
guess; at any rate she didn't make any great objection. I thought at the
last that she was laughin', but I guess she wasn't. Only what she said
sounded funny."

"What did she say?"

"Why, she wanted to know if she should call you 'Uncle Hosea.' She
supposed it should be that--'Uncle Hosy' sounded a little irreverent."

I did not answer. "Uncle Hosea!" a beautiful title, truly.

"She acted so different to-day, didn't she," observed Hephzy. "It's
because she's gettin' well, I suppose. She was real full of fun, was