My uncle entered, and quite overwhelmed me with a robust cordiality
which seemed to ignore my grief.

"Just in time, my boy," said he, "to take a cut of rare roast beef and a
hot potato and a mug of your Uncle Sam's beer with us."

I shuddered, and rebuked him with the intelligence that I had just
lunched at the club, and should not dine till six.

Then I stated my business, curtly.

He looked at me with a stare, which I have frequently observed in
persons of limited intelligence.

"So you want to gamble away your mother's last dollar," said he.

In vain I stated and restated to him my plans. The fellow, evidently
jealous of my superior financial ability, constantly interrupted me with
ejaculations of "Pish!" "Bosh!" "Pshaw!" "No go!" and finally, with a
loud thump on a table, covered with such costly but valueless objects as
books and plates, he cried,

"What a d--d fool!"

I was glad to perceive that he began to admit my wisdom and his
stolidity. And so I told him.

"A---," said he, using my abhorred name in full, "I believe you are a
greater ass than your father was."