At last (as there must be an end to everything under the sun) my uncle
came to a close; and a moment of awful silence ensued, during which no
man durst look at another. But in my weak and jelly-like condition I
ventured a glance at him, and noticed that he looked up and around with
an air of satisfaction at having performed a solemn duty in a becoming
manner, blissfully unconscious of having run a poor brother off the
track. Seeing us all with moist eyes and much affected,--two or three
handkerchiefs still going,--he no doubt flattered himself that the
pathetic touches in his prayer had told.

This will give you some idea of the kind of man we had on our hands; and
I won't risk making myself as great a bore as he is, by attempting a
history of his stay with us; for I remember I set out to tell you about
my little Iron-Clad. I'm coming to that.

Suffice it to say, he stayed--he _stayed_--he STAYED!--five mortal
weeks; refusing to take hints when they almost became kicks; driving our
friends from us, and ourselves almost to distraction; his misfortunes
alone protecting him from a prompt and vigorous elimination: when a
happy chance helped me to a solution of this awful problem of destiny.

More than once I had recalled Harry's vivacious suggestion of the
scarecrow--if one could only have been invented that would sit
composedly in a chair and nod when spoken to! I was wishing for some
such automaton, to bear the brunt of the boring with which we were
afflicted, when one day there came a little man into the garden, where I
had taken refuge.

He was a short, swarthy, foreign-looking, diminutive, stiff, rather