ncle is not used to children, and he is coming to talk
business with me. It is really important that he should be quiet. Do you
think, Dora, that perhaps bed at six for H. O. and Noel--'

But H. O. said, 'Father, I really and truly won't make a noise. I'll
stand on my head all the evening sooner than disturb the Indian Uncle
with my boots.'

And Alice said Noel never made a row anyhow. So Father laughed and
said, 'All right.' And he said we might do as we liked with the
half-sovereign. 'Only for goodness' sake don't try to go in for business
with it,' he said. 'It's always a mistake to go into business with an
insufficient capital.'

We talked it over all that evening, and we decided that as we were not
to go into business with our half-sovereign it was no use not spending
it at once, and so we might as well have a right royal feast. The next
day we went out and bought the things. We got figs, and almonds and
raisins, and a real raw rabbit, and Eliza promised to cook it for us
if we would wait till tomorrow, because of the Indian Uncle coming to
dinner. She was very busy cooking nice things for him to eat. We got the
rabbit because we are so tired of beef and mutton, and Father hasn't
a bill at the poultry shop. And we got some flowers to go on the
dinner-table for Father's party. And we got hardbake and raspberry noyau
and peppermint rock and oranges and a coconut, with other nice things.
We put it all in the top long drawer. It is H. O.'s play drawer, and we
made him turn his things out and put them in Father's old portmanteau.
H. O. is getting old enough now to learn to be unselfish, and besides,
his drawer wanted tidying very badly. Then we all vowed by the honour of
the ancient House of Bastable that we would not touch any of the
feast till Dora gave the word next day. And we gave H. O. some of the
hardbake, to make it easier for him to keep his vow. The next day was
the most rememorable day in all our lives, but we didn't know that then.
But that is another story. I think that is such a useful way to know
when you can't think how to end up a chapter. I learnt it from another
writer named Kipling. I've mentioned him before, I believe, but he
deserves it!

CHAPTER 15. 'LO, THE POOR INDIAN!'

It was all very well for Father to ask us not to make a row because the
Indian Uncle was coming to talk business, but my young brother's boots
are not the only things that make a noise. We took his boots away and
made