Where's Uncle ?" asked Charlie, following with his hat still on, his hands in his pockets, and his eye fixed steadily on the bright head in front of him.
"Aunt Myra sent for him, and I was waiting up to see how she was," answered Rose, busily mending the fire.
Charlie laughed and sat down upon a corner of the library table.

"Poor old soul! What a pity she doesn't die before he is quite worn out.
A little too much ether some of these times would send her off quite comfortably, you know." "Don't speak in that way.

Uncle says imaginary troubles are often as hard to bear as real ones," said Rose, turning around displeased.
Till now she had not fairly looked at him, for recollections of the morning made her a little shy.

His attitude and appearance surprised her as much as his words, and the quick change in her face seemed to remind him of his manners.

Getting up, he hastily took off his hat and stood looking at her with a curiously fixed yet absent look as he said in the same rapid, abrupt way, as if, when once started, he found it hard to stop, "I beg pardon only joking very bad taste I know, and won't do it again.