A TELEGRAM FROM UNCLE ERIC
"WHAT shall I do with this butter, Bettina?" inquired Bob, who was helping to clear off the table after dinner one evening. "Put it in the ice-box?"
"The butter from the table?" asked Bettina. "No, Bob, I keep that left-over butter in a covered dish in the cupboard. You see, there are so many times when I need butter for cake making or cooking, and prefer not to have it very hard. Then I use that cupboard butter. There's the doorbell, Bob. Now who do you suppose that can be?"
"A telegram from Uncle Eric," said Bob, when he returned from the door. "Well, isn't that the limit! He's coming tonight!"
"Tonight!" echoed Bettina.
"Yes, on business. You see, there are so many people in town for the state fair and there are several that he must see. He's a queer old fellow—Uncle Eric is—and he has some queer notions. Doesn't like hotels, or anything but home cooking. He doesn't want anything elaborate, but he's pretty fussy about what he does want. I'm sorry for you, Bettina, but I guess we'll have to make him welcome. He's been pretty good to me, in his funny way, and so I suppose he feels he can descend on us without warning."
"But, Bob—tonight! Why, I'm not ready! I haven't groceries in the house, or anything! And I was planning to give you a cooked cereal for breakfast tomorrow."
"It's too bad, Betty," said Bob sympathetically, "but it seems as if we'll just have to manage some way. Uncle Eric has been good to me, you see. He's an old fogy of a bachelor, but he has a warm heart way down underneath his crusty exterior. And——"
"Don't you worry, Bob," said Bettina heartily. "We will manage. As a rule, I think it's pretty poor taste for anyone to come without warning or an invitation, but maybe Uncle Eric is an exception to all the rules. Tell me about him; do you have time? When does the train get in? Do you have to meet it?"
"I guess I'd better hurry right off now."