"Yes, uncle," I answered vaguely, as I knelt again by the bedside.

"A person," he said, after a while, slowly, and with hesitating effort,
"may look and feel a much better person at one time than at another.
Upon occasion, he is so happy, or perhaps so well pleased with himself,
that the good in him comes all to the surface."

"Would he be the better or the worse man if it did not, uncle?" I asked.

"You must not get me into a metaphysical discussion, little one," he
answered. "We have something more important on our hands. I want you to
note that, when a person is happy, he may look lovable; whereas, things
going as he does not like, another, and very unfinished phase of his
character may appear."

"Surely everybody must know that, uncle!"

"Then you can hardly expect me to be confident that your new friend would
appear as lovable if he were unhappy!"

"I have seen you, uncle, look as if nothing would ever make you smile
again; but I knew you loved me all the time."

"Did you, my darling? Then you were right. I dare not require of any man
that he should be as good-tempered in trouble as out of it--though he
must come to that at last; but a man must be _just_, whatever mood he is
in."

"That is what I always knew you to be, uncle! I never waited for a change