IdonotremembermuchofmyjourneytoWimblehurstwithmymotherexcepttheimageofherassittingboltupright，asratherdisdainingthethird-classcarriageinwhichwetraveled，andhowshelookedawayfrommeoutofthewindowwhenshespokeofmyuncle。“Ihavenotseenyouruncle。”shesaid，“sincehewasaboy。”Sheaddedgrudgingly，“Thenhewassupposedtobeclever。”
Shetooklittleinterestinsuchqualitiesascleverness。
“Hemarriedaboutthreeyearsago，andsetupforhimselfinWimblehurst。SoIsupposeshehadsomemoney。”
Shemusedonscenesshehadlongdismissedfromhermind。
“Teddy。”shesaidatlastinthetoneofonewhohasbeenfeelinginthedarkandfinds。“HewascalledTeddy。aboutyourage。Nowhemustbetwenty-sixorseven。”
IthoughtofmyuncleasTeddydirectlyIsawhim；therewassomethinginhispersonalappearancethatinthelightofthatmemoryphraseditselfatonceasTeddiness——acertainTeddidity。
Todescribeitinandothertermsismoredifficult。Itisnimblenesswithoutgrace，andalertnesswithoutintelligence。Hewhiskedoutofhisshopuponthepavement，ashortfigureingreyandwearinggreycarpetslippers；onehadasenseofayoungfattishfacebehindgiltglasses，wiryhairthatstuckupandforwardovertheforehead，anirregularnosethathaditsaquilinemoments，andthatthebodybetrayedanequatoriallaxity，anincipient“bowwindow“astheimagegoes。Hejerkedoutoftheshop，cametoastandonthepavementoutside，regardedsomethinginthewindowwithinfiniteappreciation，strokedhischin，and，asabruptly，shotsidewaysintothedooragain，chargingthroughitasitwerebehindanextendedhand。
“Thatmustbehim。”saidmymother，catchingatherbreath。
WecamepastthewindowwhosecontentsIwaspresentlytoknowbyheart，averyordinarychemist’swindowexceptthattherewasafrictionalelectricalmachine，anairpumpandtwoorthreetripodsandretortsreplacingthecustomaryblue，yellow，andredbottlesabove。TherewasaplasterofParishorsetoindicateveterinarymedicinesamongthesebreakables，andbelowwerescentpacketsanddiffusersandspongesandsoda-watersyphonsandsuch-likethings。Onlyinthemiddletherewasarubricatedcard，veryneatlypaintedbyhand，withthesewords——
BuyPonderevo’sCoughLinctusNOW。
NOW！
WHY？
TwopenceCheaperthaninWinter。
YouStoreapples！whynottheMedicineYouareBoundtoNeed？
inwhichappealIwastorecognisepresentlymyuncle’sdistinctivenote。
Myuncle’sfaceappearedaboveacardofinfant’scomfortersintheglasspaneofthedoor。Iperceivedhiseyeswerebrown，andthathisglassescreasedhisnose。ItwasmanifesthedidnotknowusfromAdam。Astareofscrutinyallowedanexpressionofcommercialdeferencetoappearinfrontofit，andmyuncleflungopenthedoor。
“Youdon’tknowme？”pantedmymother。
Myunclewouldnotownhedidnot，buthiscuriositywasmanifest。Mymothersatdownononeofthelittlechairsbeforethesoapandpatentmedicine-piledcounter，andherlipsopenedandclosed。
“Aglassofwater，madam。”saidmyuncle，wavedhishandinasortofcurveandshotaway。
Mymotherdrankthewaterandspoke。“Thatboy。”shesaid，“takesafterhisfather。Hegrowsmorelikehimeveryday。
AndsoIhavebroughthimtoyou。”
“Hisfather，madam？”
“George。”
Foramomentthechemistwasstillataloss。Hestoodbehindthecounterwiththeglassmymotherhadreturnedtohiminhishand。Thencomprehensiongrew。
“ByGosh！”hesaid。“Lord！”hecried。Hisglassesfelloff。Hedisappearedreplacingthem，behindapileofboxed-upbottlesofbloodmixture。“Eleventhousandvirgins！”Iheardhimcry。Theglasswasbangeddown。“O-ri-entalGums！”
Heshotawayoutoftheshopthroughsomemaskeddoor。Oneheardhisvoice。“Susan！Susan！”
Thenhereappearedwithanextendedhand。“Well，howareyou？”
hesaid。“Iwasneversosurprisedinmylife。Fancy！。You！”
Heshookmymother’simpassivehandandthenmineverywarmlyholdinghisglassesonwithhisleftforefinger。
“Comerightin！”hecried——“comerightin！Betterlatethannever！”andledthewayintotheparlourbehindtheshop。
AfterBladesoverthatapartmentstruckmeasstuffyandpetty，butitwasverycomfortableincomparisonwiththeFrappliving-room。Ithadafaint，disintegratingsmellofmealsaboutit，andmymostimmediateimpressionwasoftheremarkablefactthatsomethingwashungaboutorwrappedroundordrapedovereverything。Therewasbright-patternedmuslinroundthegas-bracketinthemiddleoftheroom，roundthemirroroverthemantel，stuffwithball-fringealongthemantelandcasinginthefireplace，——Ifirstsawball-fringehere——andeventhelamponthelittlebureauworeashadelikealargemuslinhat。Thetable-clothhadball-fringeandsohadthewindowcurtains，andthecarpetwasabedofroses。Therewerelittlecupboardsoneithersideofthefireplace，andintherecesses，ill-madeshelvespackedwithbooks，andenrichedwithpinkedAmericancloth。Therewasadictionarylyingfacedownwardonthetable，andtheopenbureauwaslitteredwithfoolscappaperandtheevidencesofrecentlyabandonedtoil。Myeyecaught“ThePonderevoPatentFlat，aMachineyoucanLivein。”writteninlargefirmletters。Myuncleopenedalittledoorlikeacupboarddoorinthecornerofthisroom，andrevealedthenarrowesttwistofstaircaseIhadeverseteyesupon。“Susan！”
hebawledagain。“Wantje。Someonetoseeyou。Surprisin’。”
Therecameaninaudiblereply，andasuddenloudbumpoverourheadsasofsomearticleofdomesticutilitypettishlyflungaside，thenthecautiousstepsofsomeonedescendingthetwist，andthenmyauntappearedinthedoorwaywithherhanduponthejamb。
“It’sAuntPonderevo。”criedmyuncle。“George’swife——andshe’sbroughtoverherson！”Hiseyeroamedabouttheroom。Hedartedtothebureauwithasuddenimpulse，andturnedthesheetaboutthepatentflatfacedown。Thenhewavedhisglassesatus，“Youknow，Susan，myelderbrotherGeorge。Itoldyouabout’imlotsoftimes。”
Hefrettedacrosstothehearthrugandtookupapositionthere，replacedhisglassesandcoughed。
MyauntSusanseemedtobetakingitin。Shewasthenratheraprettyslenderwomanoftwenty-threeorfour，Isuppose，andI
rememberbeingstruckbythebluenessofhereyesandtheclearfreshnessofhercomplexion。Shehadlittlefeatures，abuttonnose，aprettychinandalonggracefulneckthatstuckoutofherpalebluecottonmorningdress。Therewasalookofhalf-assumedperplexityonherface，alittlequizzicalwrinkleofthebrowthatsuggestedafaintlyamusedattempttofollowmyuncle’smentaloperations，avainattemptandacertainhopelessnessthathadinsuccessionbecomehabitual。Sheseemedtobesaying，“OhLord！What’shegivingmeTHIStime？”AndascametoknowherbetterIdetected，asacomplicationofhereffortofapprehension，asubsidiaryriddleto“What’shegivingme？”andthatwas——toborrowaphrasefrommyschoolboylanguage“Isitkeeps？”Shelookedatmymotherandme，andbacktoherhusbandagain。
“Youknow。”hesaid。“George。”
“Well。”shesaidtomymother，descendingthelastthreestepsofthestaircaseandholdingoutherhand！“you’rewelcome。Thoughit’sasurprise。Ican’taskyoutoHAVEanything，I’mafraid，forthereisn’tanythinginthehouse。”Shesmiled，andlookedatherhusbandbanteringly。“Unlesshemakesupsomethingwithhisoldchemicals，whichhe’squiteequaltodoing。”
Mymothershookhandsstiffly，andtoldmetokissmyaunt。
“Well，let’sallsitdown。”saidmyuncle，suddenlywhistlingthroughhisclenchedteeth，andbrisklyrubbinghishandstogether。Heputupachairformymother，raisedtheblindofthelittlewindow，lowereditagain，andreturnedtohishearthrug。“I’msure。”hesaid，asonewhodecides，“I’mverygladtoseeyou。”
AstheytalkedIgavemyattentionprettyexclusivelytomyuncle。
Inotedhimingreatdetail。Iremembernowhispartiallyunbuttonedwaistcoat，asthoughsomethinghadoccurredtodistracthimashediditup，andalittlecutuponhischin。I
likedacertainhumourinhiseyes。Iwatched，too，withthefascinationthatthingshaveforanobservantboy，theplayofhislips——theywerealittleoblique，andtherewassomething“slipshod。”ifonemaystrainawordsofar，abouthismouth，sothathelispedandsibilatedeverandagainandthecomingandgoingofacuriousexpression，triumphantinqualityitwas，uponhisfaceashetalked。Hefingeredhisglasses，whichdidnotseemtofithisnose，frettedwiththingsinhiswaistcoatpocketsorputhishandsbehindhim，lookedoverourheads，andeverandagainrosetohistoesanddroppedbackonhisheels。
HehadawayofdrawingairinattimesthroughhisteeththatgaveawhisperingzesttohisspeechIt’sasoundIcanonlyrepresentasasoftZzzz。
