"Oh, I mean that thing he plays."

"The ukelele. Yes, Saunders is a wizard with it. But in spite of
that he's a good fellow." (What did "in spite of that" mean--didn't
Uncle Charlie approve of harpers?)

He continued: "He sometimes goes on fishing-trips with me."

Fishing-trips! From father Missy had learned that this was the
highest proof of camaraderie. So Uncle Charlie didn't suspect. He
was harbouring the serpent in his very bosom. Missy crumpled the
fragrant rose-geranium reflectively between her fingers.

Then Uncle Charlie suggested that she play something for him on the
piano. And Missy, feeling every minute tenderer toward him because
she must keep to herself the dreadful truths which would hurt him if
he knew, hurried to his side, took away his cane, and put her own
arm in its place for him to lean on. And Uncle Charlie seemed to
divine there was something special in her deed, for he reached down
and patted the arm which supported him, and said:

"You're a dear child, Missy."

In the living-room the sun was shining through the charming,
cretonne-hung bay window and upon the soft, rich colours of the
Chinese embroideries. The embroideries were on the wall beyond the
piano, so that she could see them while she played. Uncle Charlie
wasn't in her range of vision unless she turned her head; but she
could smell his cigar, and could sense him sitting there very quiet