“Why, Uncle Fred’s marriage.”
“What is romantic?”
Queenie tossed her head, but to tell the plain truth she did not exactly know herself.
“Well, that’s what mamma says when she tells people about Uncle Fred. She says it’s so romantic, and everybody else says the same—so it must be so, you know.”
Bertie had never dreamed of disputing this, so, as he had no answer ready, he merely said,—
“Well?”
“Well,” returned Queenie, settling down to her story with great animation, “this is what has happened. You know, when Uncle Fred was quite a young man, he was very fond of a lady he knew very well, and he wanted to marry her; but he was not very well off, and he did not like to ask her to marry him till he got some money. So he went away to sea to make his fortune, and when he came back after a year or two with a good deal more money, he found that the lady had married somebody else,—he had never told her how fond he was of her, which I think was silly,—and had gone away to live in London. Well, poor Uncle Fred was very sad, for he loved her very much, and he always had fancied that she liked him too. A friend of his told him that people thought the lady had married partly to please her father, for she was very fond of him and very obedient; anyway she was married, and Uncle Fred was too late, so he went back to sea again and tried to forget all about her.”
Queenie paused here, and Bertie asked,—
“Is that all?”
“Of course it isn’t all!” cried Queenie; “all that happened ten years ago.”