.
"U--m--m--Um--m--m--U--m--m. It takes a great deal of patience," said
our Uncle Peter, "to bring up a little boy.--Unless every time he's
naughty you can say to yourself 'Well, even so--think what a good man
his Father grew to be!'----Or every time he's good you're fair enough to
admit that 'Even his naughty Father was once as nice as this!'"----All
the twinkle went suddenly out of our Uncle Peter's eyes. It left them
looking narrow. He made a quick glance at Carol. He made a quick glance
at me. He seemed very pleased that we were so busy looking at a map of
Bermuda. He stepped a little nearer to the Lady. His voice sounded
funny. "Were you--were you very fond of the little boy's Father?" he
said.

The Lady's face went blazing like a flame out of her black clothes. It
was like a white flame that it went blazing. Her eyes looked screaming.

"How dare you?" she said. "You have no business!--What if I was?--What
if I wasn't?" All the scream in her eyes fell down her throat into a
whisper. "Suppose--Suppose--I--WASN'T?" she whispered.

"Then indeed I CAN give you advice," said our Uncle Peter.

The Lady reached out a hand to the book-case to make herself more
steady.

"What--what is it?" she said.

Our Uncle Peter looked funnier and funnier. It wasn't like Christmas
that he looked. Nor Fourth of July. Nor even like when we've got the
mumps or the measles. It was like Easter Sunday that he looked! There
was no twinkle in it. Nor any smoke. Nor even paper dolls. But just
SHININGNESS! His voice was all SHININGNESS too!--If it hadn't been you
never could have heard it 'cause he made his words so little.

"It's almost a year now," he said, "since our eyes first met.--You've
tried your best to hide from me--but you couldn't do it.--Fate had other
ideas in mind.--A chance encounter on the street,--that day on the ferry
boat,--your funny little dog-advertisement in the paper?"

Quite suddenly our Uncle Peter straightened up like a soldier and spoke
right out loud again.

"About your little boy," he said, "my advice about your little boy?--It
being indeed so well-nigh impossible, Madam, for a woman to bring up a
little boy very successfully unless--she did love his Father,--my advice
to you is that without the slightest unnecessary delay you proceed to
get him a Father whom you COULD love!"

Whereupon, as people always say in books, our Uncle Peter turned upon
his heel and started for the door.

The Lady swooned into