disappointed.
The Uncle replied, 'I have enough for my simple wants, thank you, H.
O.; and your Father's business will provide him with enough for yours.
Eh!--what?'

Then we all went down and looked at the fox thoroughly, and made the
Uncle take the glass off so that we could see it all round and then the
Uncle took us all over the house, which is the most comfortable one I
have ever been in. There is a beautiful portrait of Mother in Father's
sitting-room. The Uncle must be very rich indeed. This ending is like
what happens in Dickens's books; but I think it was much jollier to
happen like a book, and it shows what a nice man the Uncle is, the way
he did it all.

Think how flat it would have been if the Uncle had said, when we first
offered him the one and threepence farthing, 'Oh, I don't want your
dirty one and three-pence! I'm very rich indeed.' Instead of which he
saved up the news of his wealth till Christmas, and then told us all
in one glorious burst. Besides, I can't help it if it is like Dickens,
because it happens this way. Real life is often something like books.

Presently, when we had seen the house, we were taken into the
drawing-room, and there was Mrs Leslie, who gave us the shillings and
wished us good hunting, and Lord Tottenham, and Albert-next-door's
Uncle--and Albert-next-door, and his Mother (I'm not very fond of her),
and best of all our own Robber and his two kids, and our Robber had a
new suit on. The Uncle told us he had asked the people who had been kind
to us, and Noel said, 'Where is my noble editor that I wrote the poetry
to?'

The Uncle said he had not had the courage to ask a strange editor to
dinner; but Lord Tottenham was an old friend of Uncle's, and he had
introduced Uncle to Mrs Leslie, and that was how he had the pride and
pleasure of welcoming her to our house-warming. And he made her a bow
like you see on a Christmas card.

Then Alice asked, 'What about Mr Rosenbaum? He was kind; it would have
been a pleasant surprise for him.'

But everybody laughed, and Uncle said--

'Your father has paid him the sovereign he lent you. I don't think he
could have borne another pleasant surprise.'

And I said there was the butcher, and he was really kind; but they only
laughed, and Father said you could not ask all your business friends to
a private dinner.

Then it was dinner-time, and we thought of Uncle's talk about cold
mutton and rice. But it was a beautiful dinner, and I neve