“Oh,” laughed Uncle, while Mr. Bang grinned broadly, “You are troubled over the shaggy appearance of the skins. They have not been plucked—the long coarse hairs are generally plucked from the beaver, otter, fur seal, and a few others, when the fur remaining is soft and silky.”
“And I may have mine made into real beaver—how lovely!”
“I would suggest,” put in Mr. Bang, still smiling, “that you leave them as they are, they would become you and not be unfashionable.”
“Would they?” I asked, impetuously turning to Uncle.
“As Jack suggests, I think they would be becoming,” and Uncle smiled. “You can always trust Jack.”
“Then I shall,” I said and left them. I meant leave the skins as they were, and if they thought I meant trusting Jack that is their look-out.
After breakfast I saw Bowman, the man who tends Uncle’s furnace and clears away the snow, passing out into the street with a cigar box under his arm. I was sure it was the box I gave Uncle. I thought I would investigate so I went into the den where the two men were smoking. They were enjoying cigars, the odour of which seemed fine.
“Oh Uncle!” I cried, “I’m so glad to find you smoking. I noticed Bowman with a cigar box under his arm and I wondered——”
“Bowman takes such things as empty cigar boxes as his perquisites, see!”—and Uncle took a jar off the mantle and removing the cover showed me many cigars. Both of them then laughed. I was very annoyed.
Whenever I am in Mr. Bang’s presence he gazes intently at me and I am beginning to loathe his quiet smile. Nothing escapes him, and after Uncle’s explanation I’m sure he saw me start as I noticed a half consumed cigar box in the grate. Evidently there were the contents of two boxes of cigars in the jar.