ense satisfaction of seeing Uncle George enter the dining-room,
obviously roused from his slumbers by the luncheon bell, and obviously
quite unaware of the blue and orange socks that still adorned his
person.

"Curious!" he ejaculated, as Ethel, William's grown-up sister, pointed
out the blue sock to him. "Most curious!"

William departed discreetly muttering something about "better tidy up
a bit," which drew from his sister expressions of surprise and
solicitous questions as to his state of health.

"Most curious!" again said Uncle George, who had now discovered the
orange sock.

When William returned, all excitement was over and Uncle George was
consuming roast beef with energy.

"Ah, William," he said, "we must complete the History lesson soon.
Nothing like History. Nothing like History. Nothing like History.
Teaches us to endure the buffets of fate with equanimity and to smile
at misfortune. Then we must do some Geography." William groaned. "Most
fascinating study. Rivers, mountains, cities, etc. Most improving. The
morning should be devoted to intellectual work at your age, William,
and the afternoon to the quiet pursuit of--some improving hobby. You
would then find the true joy of life."

To judge from William's countenance he did not wholly agree, but he
made no objection. He had learnt that objection was useless, and
against Uncle George's eloquence silence was his only weapon.

After lunch Uncle George followed his usual custom and retired to
rest. William went to the shed in the back garden and continued the
erection of a rabbit hutch that he had begun a few days before. He
hoped that if he made a hutch, Providence would supply a rabbit. He
whistled blithely as he knocked nails in at random.

"William, you mustn't do that now."

He turned a stern gaze upon his mother.

"Why not?" he said.

"Uncle George is resting."

With a crushing glance at her he strolled away from the shed. Someone
had left the lawn mower in the middle of the lawn. With one of his
rare impulses of pure virtue he determined to be useful. Also, he
rather liked mowing the grass.

"William, don't do that now," called his sister from the window.
"Uncle George is resting."

He deliberately drove the mowing machine into the middle of a garden
bed and left it there. He was beginning to feel desperate. Then:

"What _can_ I do?" he said bitterly to Ethel, who was still at the
window.

"You'd better find some quiet, improving ho