us to-morrow, we will show you our idea of good things to eat." You will see, if you think it over, that this would not have been at all polite to Father.
So when the Uncle left, Father saw him to the door and let him out, and then went back to the study, looking very sad, Dora says.
As the poor Indian came down our steps he saw me there at the gate. I did not mind his being poor, and I said, "Good evening, Uncle," just as politely as though he had been about to ascend into one of the gilded chariots of the rich and affluent, instead of having to walk to the station a quarter of a mile in the mud, unless he had the money for a tram fare.
"Good evening, Uncle." I said it again, for he stood staring at me. I don't suppose he was used to politeness from boys—some boys are anything but—especially to the Aged Poor.
So I said, "Good evening, Uncle," yet once again. Then he said—
"Time you were in bed, young man. Eh!—what?"
Then I saw I must speak plainly with him, man to man. So I did. I said—
"You've been dining with my Father, and we couldn't help hearing you say the dinner was shocking. So we thought as you're an
