You see, my brother left his little girl with us while he ran across to London.
She's a dear little thing, but utterly spoiled.
Once in a while it is up to me to punish her, for I promised Henry to be a father to his little pet while he was gone.
The other night she was pouting and headstrong, so I set about depriving her of something she particularly desired.
Result, of course, a deluge of tears.
"It hurts me to see you cry, Gwendoline," I said, in a mournful voice, "but you understand you can't always have your own way, and do as you like."
"Oh, uncle," she sobbed, "how can you be so obstinate?"
They're all alike, these women, and bound to gain their ends by hook or by crook.
And yet sometimes they do have the most remarkable ideas about things.