“Ah, never mind, never mind!” took up the little Major, turning quickly to the child and smiling from her to me. “I don’t tell tales out of school, young lady. But brown eyes”—with another monocled glance at those wide search-lights under the yellow curls—“brown eyes always stand for fickleness! There must have been a dozen at least of us that you treated disgracefully, Monica, eh? One comfort is I’m not the only sufferer!”
He was not!
My heart sank lower and lower at the thought that this garrulous little blunderer was to stay for dinner. And the other expected guest, the outspoken uncle, was to be here for the whole week-end! What would he be like? Not worse than Major Montresor—that was the single ray of comfort. Nothing could be worse! Still, the two together—what a prospect!
Even as I was shuddering over it, the sound of some confused commotion was borne in to us from the hall; and then a loud, bluff, breezy voice positively shouted:
“Name? My good woman, you’re pretty new to this house, or you’d know my name. Same as your master’s. No! Don’t announce me. I’ll announce myself.” (As if this were necessary!) “Where are they all? Tea? Good! Young lady there too? Excellent!”
The door, this time, burst open, and in avalanched (it’s the only word) Uncle Albert Waters.
CHAPTER XVI
THE ORDEAL BY INSPECTION
In looks, Uncle Albert Waters was just like the John Bull of the cartoons, minus the hat. In voice, he was Theo through a megaphone. In manner, a genial form of hurricane.