"What did she say?" enquired Philip, much interested. Of late he had been giving this point a good deal of consideration himself.
"She said," replied Peggy, evidently quoting verbatim and with great care, "that there was probably only one woman in the world who could give an answer to that question—and she never would!"
"What does that mean?" enquired the obtuse Philip.
"It means," explained Peggy, adopting the superior attitude inevitable in the female, however youthful, who sets out to unfold the mysteries of the heart to a member of the unintelligent sex, "that Uncle Joseph was once fond of a lady, and she threw him over."
"But I don't think that can be true," said Philip deferentially. "Uncle Joseph isn't fond of any ladies at all. You have only to hear him talk about them to know that. He thinks they are an incu—incu—something. Anyhow, it means a heavy burden. They are Parry-sites, too. He says the only way to do one's work in life is to keep away from women. How could he be fond of one?"
"I expect he didn't always think all those things about them," replied Peggy shrewdly. "Men change with disappointment," she added, with an air of profound wisdom.
"How do you know that?" enquired Philip respectfully. Such matters were too high for him.
"I have often heard Mother say so," explained Peggy, "after Father has been in one of his tempers."
Philip pondered. Here was a fresh puzzle.
"How can your father have been disappointed?" he asked. "He is married."