Our Uncle Peter's cheeks got sort of red.
"Suit yourself, my dear Madam," he said and started for the door. He picked up my hat and put it on Carol's head.—Carol's head looked pretty astonished. He took Carol's cap and put it on my head. He handed us our coats upside down.—All our pennies and treasures fell out on the floor. He snatched up the little boy's gloves by mistake and thrust them into his own pockets.
The Lady collected everything again and re-distributed them. She seemed to think it was funny. Not very funny but just a little. She looked at Carol sort of specially.
"Oh my dear Child," she said. "I hope you didn't mind because Dicky called you a 'Silence'?"
Carol did mind. He minded very much. I could tell by the way he carried his ears. They looked very stately. Our Uncle Peter whirled round in the door-way. His ears looked pretty stately too.
"All the men in our family," he said, "aim to meet the exigencies of life—sensibly."
The Lady seemed to consider the fact quite a long time before she smiled again.
"Oh very well," she said. "If the Uncle really is as sensible as the nephew perhaps he will consent to leave the children here with me to-night—instead of bearing them off to the confusion and general mis-button-ness of hotels."
Our Uncle Peter's face fairly burst into relief.
"Oh, do you really mean that?" he cried. "It IS their infernal buttons that makes most of the worry!—And their prayers?—What IS the difference anyway between a morning and an evening prayer?—And this awful responsibility about cereals? And how in the world do you make sure about their necks?"