A WHITE-WASHED UNCLE
A solemn hush fell on the assembly, broken first by the small Charlotte. 'I didn't know,' she observed dreamily, 'that there were such good men anywhere in the world. I hope he'll die to-night, for then he'll go straight to heaven!' But the repentant Selina bewailed herself with tears and sobs, refusing to be comforted; for that in her haste she had called this white-souled relative a beast.
'I'll tell you what we'll do,' said Edward, the master-mind, rising—as he always did—to the situation: 'We'll christen the piebald pig after him—the one that hasn't got a name yet. And that'll show we're sorry for our mistake!'
'I—I christened that pig this morning,' Harold guiltily confessed; 'I christened it after the curate. I'm very sorry—but he came and bowled to me last night, after you others had all been sent to bed early—and somehow I felt I had to do it!'
'Oh, but that doesn't count,' said Edward hastily; 'because we weren't all there. We'll take that christening off, and call it Uncle
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