“‘Why, James,’ said his companion and chief counselor, ‘do you think Grace likes you?’
“‘I don’t know,’ said our hero with a comfortable appearance of certainty.
“‘But you can’t get her, James, if Uncle Tim is cross about it.’
“‘Fudge! I can make Uncle Tim like me if I have a mind to try.’
“‘Well, then, Jim, you’ll have to give up that flute of yours, I tell you, now.’
“‘Fa, sol, la—I can make him like me, and my flute, too.’
“‘Why, how will you work it?’
“‘Oh, I’ll work it,’ said our hero.
“‘Well, Jim, I tell you now, you don’t know Uncle Tim if you say so, for he’s just the settest critter in his way that you ever saw.’
“‘I do know Uncle Tim though, better than most folks; he is no more cross than I am; and as to his being set, you have nothing to do but make him think he is in his own way when he is in yours—that is all.’