"I'm sure of it, Julia!" said my uncle George, fidgeting with his
stock.

"His misfortune! And I have watched over him with care unfailing--"

"Er--of course, yes--not a doubt of it, Julia," said uncle George,
fiddling with a coat button.

"His upbringing has been the passion of my life--"

"I'm sure of it, Julia, your sweet and--er--womanly nature--"

"George, have the goodness not to interrupt!" sighed my aunt, with a
little gesture of her hand. "I have furthermore kept him segregated
from all that could in any way vitiate or vulgarise; he has had the
ablest tutors and been my constant companion, and to-day--I am
told--all this is but his misfortune. Now and therefore. Sir Jervas
Vereker, pray explain yourself."

"Briefly and with joy, m'dear Julia," answered my uncle Jervas,
smiling sleepily into my aunt's fierce black eyes. "I simply mean that
your meticulous care of our nephew has turned what should have been an
ordinary and humanly promising, raucous and impish hobbledehoy into a
very precise, something superior, charmingly prim and modest, ladylike
young fellow--"

"Ladyli--!" My stately aunt came as near gasping as was possible in
such a woman, then her stately form grew more rigidly statuesque, her
mouth and chin took on that indomitable look I knew so well, and she
swept the speaker with the blasting fire of her fine black eyes. "Sir