"Teapot Twist?" said Anna-Rose. "I think that's irreverent."
"Not at all. It's a pet name. A sign of our affection and gratitude. Then he isn't your uncle?"
"We haven't got a real uncle nearer than heaven," said Anna-Felicitas, her cheek on her hand, dreamily reconstructing the image of Onkel Col.
"Indeed," said the old gentleman. "Indeed." And he ruminated, on this too, his thirsty heart—he had a thirsty heart, and found difficulty in slaking it because of his wife—very indulgent toward the twins.
Then he said: "That's a long way off."
"What is?" asked Anna-Rose.
"The place your uncle's in."
"Not too far really," said Anna-Felicitas softly. "He's safe there. He was very old, and was difficult to look after. Why, he got there at last through his own carelessness."
"Indeed," said the old gentleman.
"Sheer carelessness," said Anna-Rose.