I had no idea what it meant to get married but I made up my mind that it
was something pretty low and bad. For the moment I blamed Uncle Peabody.

Aunt Deel's voice and manner seemed to indicate that she had borne with
him to the limit of her patience.

"Delia," said my uncle, "I wouldn't be so--"

Again he checked himself for fear of going too far, I suppose.

"My heart! my heart!" Aunt Deel exclaimed and struggled to her feet
sobbing, and Uncle Peabody helped her to the lounge. She was so ill the
rest of the day that my uncle had to go for the doctor while I bathed
her forehead with cold water.

Poor Uncle Peabody! Every step toward matrimony required such an outlay
of emotion and such a sacrifice of comfort that I presume it seemed to
be hardly worth while.

Yet I must be careful not to give the reader a false impression of my
Aunt Deel. She was a thin, pale woman, rather tall, with brown hair and
blue eyes and a tongue--well, her tongue has spoken for itself. I
suppose that she will seem inhumanly selfish with this jealousy of her
brother.

"I promised ma that I would look after you and I'm a-goin' to do
it--ayes!" I used to hear her say to my uncle.

There were not many married men who were so thoroughly looked after.