Fairy Prince and Other Stories Part 31

"Whatever your faults, my dear Madam," said our Uncle Peter, "they are essentially feminine and therefore enchanting! It is only when ladies ape the faults of men that men resent the same!--Your extravagant indulgency--" he bowed towards the toys--"your absolute innocence of all business guile--" he bowed towards Tiger Lily--"nerves strung so exquisitely that the slightest--the slightest--"

The Lady s.h.i.+vered her clothes like a black frost.

"It was advice that I was looking for, not compliments," she said.

"Oh ho!" said Uncle Peter. "I'm infinitely more adept with advice than I am with compliments!"

The Lady looked a little bit surprised. She frowned.

"It's my little boy that I want advice about," she said. "What IS the best thing I can do for him?"

Our Uncle Peter looked at the ceiling. He looked at the rug. He looked at the pictures on the wall. But it seemed to satisfy him most to look at the Lady's face.

"U--m--m," he said. "U--m--mmmm.--That isn't an easy question to answer unless you're willing first to answer a question of mine."

"Ask any question you want to," said the Lady.

"U--m--m," said our Uncle Peter all over again.

"U--m--m--Um--m--m--U--m--m. It takes a great deal of patience," said our Uncle Peter, "to bring up a little boy.--Unless every time he's naughty you can say to yourself 'Well, even so--think what a good man his Father grew to be!'----Or every time he's good you're fair enough to admit that 'Even his naughty Father was once as nice as this!'"----All the twinkle went suddenly out of our Uncle Peter's eyes. It left them looking narrow. He made a quick glance at Carol. He made a quick glance at me. He seemed very pleased that we were so busy looking at a map of Bermuda. He stepped a little nearer to the Lady. His voice sounded funny. "Were you--were you very fond of the little boy's Father?" he said.

The Lady's face went blazing like a flame out of her black clothes. It was like a white flame that it went blazing. Her eyes looked screaming.

"How dare you?" she said. "You have no business!--What if I was?--What if I wasn't?" All the scream in her eyes fell down her throat into a whisper. "Suppose--Suppose--I--WASN'T?" she whispered.

"Then indeed I CAN give you advice," said our Uncle Peter.

The Lady reached out a hand to the book-case to make herself more steady.

"What--what is it?" she said.

Our Uncle Peter looked funnier and funnier. It wasn't like Christmas that he looked. Nor Fourth of July. Nor even like when we've got the mumps or the measles. It was like Easter Sunday that he looked! There was no twinkle in it. Nor any smoke. Nor even paper dolls. But just s.h.i.+NINGNESS! His voice was all s.h.i.+NINGNESS too!--If it hadn't been you never could have heard it 'cause he made his words so little.

"It's almost a year now," he said, "since our eyes first met.--You've tried your best to hide from me--but you couldn't do it.--Fate had other ideas in mind.--A chance encounter on the street,--that day on the ferry boat,--your funny little dog-advertis.e.m.e.nt in the paper?"

Quite suddenly our Uncle Peter straightened up like a soldier and spoke right out loud again.

"About your little boy," he said, "my advice about your little boy?--It being indeed so well-nigh impossible, Madam, for a woman to bring up a little boy very successfully unless--she did love his Father,--my advice to you is that without the slightest unnecessary delay you proceed to get him a Father whom you COULD love!"

Whereupon, as people always say in books, our Uncle Peter turned upon his heel and started for the door.

The Lady swooned into her chair.

Our Uncle Peter had to get a gla.s.s of water to un-swoon her.

I ran for a fan. It bursted my garter. When our Uncle Peter tried to mend it he swore instead.

The Lady came out of her swoon without an instant's hesitation.

"Here at least," she said, "is something that I know enough to do."

Her mouth was full of scorn and pins. It was with pins that she knew enough to do it.

Our Uncle Peter looked very humble.

The Lady patted my knees.

"Little girls are so much easier to manage than little boys," she said.

"I don't seem to understand little boys."

"Nor big boys either!" said our Uncle Peter. He said it with gruffness.

It sounded cross.

"Perhaps I--don't want to understand them," said the Lady.

Our Uncle Peter's cheeks got sort of red.

"Suit yourself, my dear Madam," he said and started for the door. He picked up my hat and put it on Carol's head.--Carol's head looked pretty astonished. He took Carol's cap and put it on my head. He handed us our coats upside down.--All our pennies and treasures fell out on the floor.

He s.n.a.t.c.hed up the little boy's gloves by mistake and thrust them into his own pockets.

The Lady collected everything again and re-distributed them. She seemed to think it was funny. Not very funny but just a little. She looked at Carol sort of specially.

"Oh my dear Child," she said. "I hope you didn't mind because d.i.c.ky called you a 'Silence'?"

Carol did mind. He minded very much. I could tell by the way he carried his ears. They looked very stately. Our Uncle Peter whirled round in the door-way. His ears looked pretty stately too.

"All the men in our family," he said, "aim to meet the exigencies of life--sensibly."

The Lady seemed to consider the fact quite a long time before she smiled again.

"Oh very well," she said. "If the Uncle really is as sensible as the nephew perhaps he will consent to leave the children here with me to-night--instead of bearing them off to the confusion and general mis-b.u.t.ton-ness of hotels."

Our Uncle Peter's face fairly burst into relief.

"Oh, do you really mean that?" he cried. "It IS their infernal b.u.t.tons that makes most of the worry!--And their prayers?--What IS the difference anyway between a morning and an evening prayer?--And this awful responsibility about cereals? And how in the world do you make sure about their necks?"

"Oh those are the things I know perfectly," said the Lady. "All the nice gentle in-door things."

Our Uncle Peter began to strut again.

"Oh pshaw!" he said. "It's only the outdoor things that are really important,--how to climb mountains, how to stop a runaway horse,--how to smother a gra.s.s fire!"

It put the Lady all in a flutter.

"Oh pshaw!" said our Uncle Peter. "That's nothing!--The very first instant you hear the maddened hoofs on the pavement you place yourself thus! And THUS!--And----"

The Lady tried to explain to him the difference between a morning and an evening prayer. "Now at night, of course," she explained, "everything is so very lonely that--"

Our Uncle Peter didn't seem to care at all how lonely it was.