"Now look here, young fellow!" exclaimed the old man in a rage, his hair seeming to stand up straighter, "I don’t want to be Uncle Billied by you, and I won’t have it, either. Your daddy’s got it in for me lately, and I’ll be hanged if I’m going to put up with it much longer. And Florence, you’d better speak to him about it. I want to give him every opportunity to mend his ways toward me, and you’d better caution him before it’s too late. Do you understand?" "Yes, Uncle William," she answered. "And I will speak to him." "Well, see that you do. And, mind you, I wasn’t certain whether it was on the tenth or the eleventh; I was willing to give either the benefit of the doubt; I—" "That’s all right, Uncle William," said Howard. The old man glared at him. "It’s not all right, sir, and you know it. But go ahead. I don’t belong to the plot of this household, anyway. I’m only a side issue." Howard and Florence passed out, and he shouted after them. "Do you hear me? Only a side issue." Just then Bodney came in. "You are a what, Uncle William?" he asked, looking about. "I said a side issue." "What’s that?" "If you haven’t got sense enough to know, I haven’t the indulgence to tell you." "Where did you get that pipe, Uncle William?" "I got it in the Rocky Mountains," said the old fellow. "It must have come there about the time the mountains arrived. Whew!" "Now, look here, George Bodney, don’t you bring up the tail end of an entire evening of insult by whewing at my pipe. I won’t stand it, do you hear?" Bodney undoubtedly heard, but he did not reply; he went over to the desk and began to look about, moving papers, as if searching for something. "I left my knife here, somewhere," said he. "Must have a little more light." He turned up the gas drop light on the table, went back to the desk, and, pretending to find his knife, turned down the drop light lower than it had been before. "There’s no use to put out the light simply because you’ve found your knife," said William. "It may be to your advantage to have it dark, but I like to see. I haven’t always lived in this soot and smoke; I have lived where I could see the sky from one year’s end to another." "I beg your pardon," said Bodney, "but how long do you expect to stay in this room?" "Oh, don’t pay any attention to me. I don’t belong to the plot." "What plot?" Bodney exclaimed, with a start. "Why, the plot of this household—the general plot of the whole thing." "Oh, yes, I see," said Bodney. "I’m glad you do. And, here, just a minute. The Judge and I had a difference tonight." "Not a serious one, I hope." "Devilish serious. Wait a moment. I set out by admitting that I was not exactly certain whether it was on the tenth or the eleventh. But I settled it, finally, I think, on the eleventh. I—" "Eleventh of what?"