"He's not your uncle,—or mine."
"He is Sissie's,—" with a glance at Miss Anderson.
"And what is mine is yours, of course," added Cecilia Anderson.
"Oh, well—but you can't make a thing to be, when it isn't," rejoined Felix. "He's no scrap of relation to Lettice or me, you know—really—and he must have behaved abominably to your mother."
"What did he do?" persisted Lettice.
"He objected to my mother's marriage. I suppose there were hot words spoken—as usual, in family quarrels. I am not sure about the 'behaving abominably.' He tried to prevent what he did not think would be for her happiness. My mother had her way,—and there was no further intercourse between them."
"And you to write to him—after all these years!"
"That is it! So many years and years ago;—before I was born! My uncle must be quite an elderly man now. I don't think one ought to make too much of things spoken so very long since! He thought he was in the right,—and he did not really know our father. At least, he never learnt to love him. That is what I mean. It is all over now; and one has to forget sometimes. And he is my uncle. Better to be helped by him than by strangers."
"I wonder why Dr. Bryant didn't like your mother to marry papa," Lettice conjectured dreamily. "Did anybody mind our mother marrying him?"
"People sometimes take fancies—unreasonable fancies. Dr. Bryant was always strong in his dislikes, I have been told. Mind, Lettice, you know now all that there is any need for you to know. You are not to ask any more questions, and you are never to discuss the matter with my uncle."