The children had drawn closer around his knee.
"Tell us about the elephants," pleaded Tim, with shining eyes.
"There, you see! You are begging already for a lesson in
geography--much as you dislike it!" teased his uncle.
"There can be no geography lessons now," objected Mrs. McGregor. "The
steak is done and mustn't be spoiled with waiting. Show your uncle
where to sit, Mary. And, Timmie, bring the salt. It's been forgotten.
You'll have to bring a chair from my room, Martin. Remember James
Frederick and go on your toes."
"Now, Frederick," smiled his sister mischievously, "admit that even in
India you've seen nothing better than this beefsteak."
"'Twill take no coaxing to make me admit that, my dear," returned
Captain Dillingham. "Not all the sultans of the east could produce a
dish as royal as this one."
CHAPTER VIII
THE ROMANCE OF COTTON
From the moment of Uncle James Frederick Dillingham's arrival there
began for the McGregor children an era of delight. The newly found
relative, they soon discovered, was not only all they had pictured, but
more--far more!
He did not, it is true, actually live at Mulberry Court, for because of
the crowded conditions of the McGregor home he took a room near-by;
nevertheless he might as well have lived there for he only used his own
room to sleep in and stow away his luggage. Each morning just before
breakfast his step would be heard on the stairs and off would race the
children in merry rivalry to see who would reach the door first and
have the honor of admitting him. Once inside the cosy kitchen he made
it his headquarters and it did not take long to find out that he was a
valuable asset there.
For example who could fry fish so deliciously as he? And who could make
such chowder? And as for washing dishes and wiping them he was quicker
than any of the young folks. To behold an officer in gold braid
presiding at the dishpan at first caused a protest from Mrs. McGregor;
but when the little old man asserted that it was a treat to be inside a
home and handle a mop and soap-shaker what could one say? So he mixed
the foaming suds and dabbled in them up to his elbows, and when his
sister witnessed the general frolic into which his leadership suddenly
transformed the dishwashing she no longer objected. The center of an
admiring group of youngsters Uncle Frederick scrubbed pots and pans
until they shone like mirrors, and all to a chain of the most wonderful
stories.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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