It's a pretty bad one. I guess it must be the
weather." It was hot. Uncle Charlie had taken off his coat and was in
his shirt sleeves--she was pleased to note it was a silken shirt; little
beads of perspiration stood out on his forehead, and on his head where
it was just beginning to get bald. Somehow, the fact that he looked so
hot had the effect of making her feel even more tender toward him. So,
though she thirsted for information, not for the world would she have
aroused his suspicions by questions. And she made her voice very casual,
when she finally enquired:

"By the way, that Mr. Saunders who brought us home is awfully handsome.
Sort of gallant looking, don't you think?"

Uncle Charlie laughed; then shook his finger at her in mock admonition.

"Oh, Missy! You've fallen, too?"

Missy gulped; Uncle Charlie had made an unwitting revelation! But she
tried not to give herself away; still casual, she asked:

"Oh! do other people fall?"

"All the ladies fall for Saunders," said Uncle Charlie.

Missy hesitated, then hazarded:

"Aunt Isabel, too?"

"Oh, yes." Uncle Charlie looked pathetically unconcerned. "Aunt Isabel
likes to have him around. He often comes in handy at dances."

It would be just like Mr. Saunders to be a good dancer!

"He harps well, too," she said meditatively.

"What's that?" enquired Uncle Charlie.

"Oh, I mean that thing he plays."

"The ukelele. Yes, Saunders is a wizard with it. But in spite of that
he's a good fellow." (What did "in spite of that" mean--didn't Uncle
Charlie approve of harpers?)

He continued: "He sometimes goes on fishing-trips with me."

Fishing-trips! From father Missy had learned that this was the highest
proof of camaraderie. So Uncle Charlie didn't suspect. He was harbouring
the serpent in his very bosom. Missy crumpled the fragrant rose-geranium
reflectively between her fingers.

Then Uncle Charlie suggested that she play something for him on the
piano. And Missy, feeling every minute tenderer toward him because she
must keep to herself the dreadful truths which would hurt him if he
knew, hurried to his side, took away his cane, and put her own arm in
its place for him to lean on. And Uncle Charlie seemed to divine there
was something special in her deed, for he reached down and patted the
arm which supported him, and said:

"You're a dear child, Missy."

In the living-room the sun was shining through the charming,
cretonne-hung bay window and upon