filling with tears, as she felt that she might be doing Uncle Ephraim
a wrong by even admitting that in any way he could be improved. "I
certainly love Uncle Ephraim dearly, and I do not mind his ways, but Mr.
Cameron may--that is, oh, Cousin Morris! did you ever notice how Uncle
Ephraim will persist in coming to the table in his shirt sleeves."

"Persist is hardly the word to use," Morris replied, smiling comically,
as he readily understood Katy's misgivings. "Persist would imply his
having been often remonstrated with for that breach of etiquette;
whereas I doubt much whether the idea that it was not in strict
accordance with politeness was ever suggested to him."

"Maybe not," Katy answered. "It was never necessary till now, and I feel
so disturbed, for I want Mr. Cameron to like him, and if he does that I
am sure he won't."

"Why do you think so?" Morris asked, and Katy replied: "He is so
particular, and was so very angry at a little hotel between Lakes
George and Champlain, where we took our dinner before going on the
boat. There was a man along--a real good-natured man, too, so kind to
everybody--and, as the day was warm, he carried his coat on his arm, and
sat down to the table that way, right opposite me. Mr. Cameron was so
indignant, and said such harsh things, which the man heard, I am sure,
for he put on his coat directly; and I saw him afterward on the boat,
sweating like rain, and looking sorry as if he had done something wrong.
I am sure, though, he had not?"

This last was spoken interrogatively, and Morris replied: "There is
nothing wrong or wicked in going without one's coat. Everything depends
upon the circumstances under which it is done. For me to appear at table