"I can't make up my mind, just yet, whether
Uncle John is a fool or not." "Anyhow," snapped Beth, "he's laughing at us." "And that," said her cousin, softly, "is the strongest evidence of his sanity. Beth, my love, Aunt Jane has placed us in a most ridiculous position." That evening at dinner they met Uncle John again, seated opposite Aunt Jane in the great dining hall. The mistress of Elmhurst always dressed for this meal and tonight she wore a
rich black silk and had her invalid chair wheeled to her place at the head of the table. Uncle John had simply changed
his old black necktie for a soiled white one. Otherwise his apparel was the
same as before, and his stubby gray hair was in a sad state of disarray. But his round face wore a cheerful smile, nevertheless, and Aunt Jane seemed not to observe anything _outre_ in her brother's appearance. And so the meal passed pleasantly enough. After it was finished Uncle John strolled into the
garden to smoke his pipe under the stars and Louise sang a few songs for Aunt Jane in the dimly-lit drawing room. Beth, who was a music teacher's daughter, could not sing at all. It was some time later when John Merrick came to his sister's room to bid her good night. "Well," she asked him, "what do you think of the girls?" "My nieces?" "Yes." "During my lifetime," said the old man, "I've always noticed that girls are just
