ALBERT'S UNCLE'S GRANDMOTHER
Then I liked him better. I always like people who know the same songs we do, and books and tunes and things.
The others came out. The lady looked very uncomfy, and partly as if she was going to cry. But she couldn't help laughing, too, as more and more of us came out.
"And who," the clergyman went on—"who in fortune's name is Albert? And who is his uncle? And what have they or you to do in this galère—I mean garden?"
We all felt rather silly, and I don't think I ever felt more than then what an awful lot there were of us.
"Three years' absence in Calcutta or elsewhere may explain my ignorance of these details, but still—"
"I think we'd better go, " said Dora. "I'm sorry if we've done anything rude or wrong. We didn't mean to. Good-bye. I hope you'll be happy with the gentleman, I'm sure."
"I hope so too," said Noël, and I know he was thinking how much nicer Albert's uncle was. We turned to go. The lady had been very silent compared with what she was when she pretended to show us Canterbury. But now she seemed to shake off some dreamy silliness, and caught hold of Dora by the shoulder.
"No, dear, no," she said, "it's all right, and you must have some tea—we'll have it on the lawn. John, don't tease them any more. Albert's uncle is the gentleman I told you about. And, my dear
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