Every day one member or another of John Stanway's family had to pay a
visit to John's venerable Aunt Hannah, who lived with her brother, the
equally venerable Uncle Meshach, in a little house near the parish
church of St. Luke's. This was a social rite the omission of which
nothing could excuse. On that day it was Ethel who had called.

'Auntie was all right. She was making a lot of parkin, and of course I
had to taste it, all new, you know. I'm simply stodged.'

'Don't say "stodged."'

'Oh, mother! You won't let us say _anything_,' Ethel dismally protested;
and Leonora secretly sympathised with the grown woman in revolt.

'Oh! And Aunt Hannah wishes you many happy returns. Uncle Meshach came
back from the Isle of Man last night. He gave me a note for you. Here it
is.'

'I can't take it now, my dear. Give it me afterwards.'

'I think Uncle Meshach's a horrid old thing!' said Ethel.

'My dear girl! Why?'

'Oh! I do. I'm glad he's only father's uncle and not ours. I do hate
that name. Fancy being called Meshach!'

'That isn't uncle's fault, anyhow,' said Leonora.