Not long ago Philip could have given his opinion on this subject clearly and concisely. Now he was content to quote the words of another. "I don't quite know," he said, "but Uncle Joseph thinks--" He hesitated. Mr. Mablethorpe might not be interested in Uncle Joseph. But this astonishing gentleman appeared to be interested in everybody. "Tell me all that Uncle Joseph thinks," he commanded. "Uncle Joseph," began Philip, "used to wonder why women were ever created." Mr. Mablethorpe turned and regarded his small companion sharply. "Aha! Uncle Joseph used to wonder that, did he? Why?" "He said," continued Philip, warming to his subject as the familiar phrases came back to him, "that there is no parallel to the female mind in any other branch of Nature." "That is true," remarked Mr. Mablethorpe approvingly. "I should like to meet Uncle Joseph. Go on." "It seems incredible," pursued Philip, with a curiously incongruous expression of intense wisdom upon his honest and ingenuous features, "that Providence should handicap its own beautifully designed human engines by placing them in daily contact with such a piece of uncontrolled and ill-balanced mechanism as Woman." "Oho!" said Mr. Mablethorpe, manipulating the oil-pump, to the noisome satisfaction of Boanerges; "Uncle Joseph said that, did he?" "Yes; and he said putting women near a man was like putting a lot of bar-magnets round a compass. And he said they were parasites, too, actuated by predatory instincts. They--" But Mr. Mablethorpe interrupted him. "Uncle Joseph, I take it," he said, "is a married man." "Oh, no," replied Philip, "he is a bachelor. He never allows a woman into his house, even to wash,--at least, he never did until the other day, when the Beautiful Lady came. And then--well, I didn't know what to think, sir," he concluded helplessly. "This," commented Mr. Mablethorpe, "is elliptical but interesting. Proceed, my infant misogynist. Who was the Beautiful Lady, and why did she call?" "Well, sir," said Philip, knitting his brows, "it was like this. No woman is ever--was ever--allowed into our house, because--because of what Uncle Joseph thinks--thought--about them. Yesterday a lady called when he was out, and got in." "Who let her in?" enquired the accusing voice of Mr. Mablethorpe. "I'm afraid I did, sir," replied Philip apologetically. "I am not in the least surprised to hear it," said Mr. Mablethorpe. "What was she like?" "She was all in black, and she sat and talked to me for a long time, and told me she had lost her little girl. Then Uncle Joseph came in, and--and--and they seemed to know each other quite well, sir." Mr. Mablethorpe deliberately switched off his engine and slowed down to a stop at the roadside. "Now we can talk without shouting," he said. "I scent copy. This is a real live Romance. Continue. How well did Uncle Joseph and the Beautiful Lady appear to know one another?" "Pretty well," faltered Philip, with boylike reserve.