“It is a noble pursuit,” said Uncle Chris firmly. “Worthy of the great nation that has produced it. No doubt, when I return to America, I shall have opportunities of recovering my lost skill.”
“You aren’t returning to America,” said Jill. “You’re going to stay safe at home like a good little uncle. I’m not going to have you running wild all over the world at your age.”
“Age?” declaimed Uncle Chris. “What is my age? At the present moment I feel in the neighborhood of twenty-one, and Ambition is tapping me on the shoulder and whispering ‘Young man, go West!’ The years are slipping away from me, my dear Jill,—slipping so quickly that in a few minutes you will be wondering why my nurse does not come to fetch me. The wanderlust is upon me. I gaze around me at all this prosperity in which I am lapped,” said Uncle Chris, eyeing the arm-chair severely, “all this comfort and luxury which swaddles me, and I feel staggered. I want activity. I want to be braced!”
“You would hate it,” said Jill composedly. “You know you’re the laziest old darling in the world.”
“Exactly what I am endeavoring to point out. I am lazy. Or, I was till this morning.”
“Something very extraordinary must have happened this morning. I can see that.”
“I wallowed in gross comfort. I was what Shakespeare calls a ‘fat and greasy citizen’!”
“Please, Uncle Chris!” protested Jill. “Not while I’m eating buttered toast!”
“But now I am myself again.”
“That’s splendid.”