"You haven't been drinking, have you, Peregrine?" he demanded. "No, sir!" "Then you must be mad!" "I think not, sir. Howbeit, I shall go!" "Preposterousandamridiculous!" he exclaimed in a breath. "Possibly, sir!" quoth I, squaring my shoulders resolutely. "But my mind is resolved--" "Julia--your aunt, will never permit such tom-fool nonsense, boy!" "I am determined, sir!" said I, folding my arms. "I go for her sake--her future happiness--" "Happiness?" cried my uncle George, pulling at his whisker, "'t would break her heart, Perry; she'd grieve, boy, aye, begad she would--she'd grieve, as I say, and--grieve, d'ye see--" "Then you must comfort her--you or Uncle Jervas, or both! Woo her, win her whoever can, only make her happy--that happiness she has denied herself for my sake, all these years. This you must do--it is for this I am about to sacrifice the joy of her companionship, the gentle quiet and luxury of home to pit myself, alone and friendless, against an alien world. This, my dear uncles," said I, finding myself not a little moved as I concluded, "this is my prayer, that, through one of you she may find a greater happiness than has ever been hers hitherto." "Tush, boy!" murmured my uncle Jervas, lounging gracefully against the balustrade of the terrace again, "Tush and fiddle-de-dee! If you have done with these heroics, let us get to our several beds like common-sense beings," and he yawned behind a white and languid hand. His words stung me, I will own; but it was not so much these that wrought me to sudden, cold fury, as that contemptuous yawn. Even as I stood mute with righteous indignation, all my finer feelings thus wantonly outraged, he yawned again. "Come, Peregrine," he mumbled sleepily, "come you in to bed, like a sensible lad." "Uncle Jervas," said I, smiling up at him as contemptuously as possible, "I will see you damned first!" "Good God!" exclaimed my uncle George, and letting go his whisker he fell back a step, staring down at me as if he had never seen me before in all his life. Uncle Jervas, on the contrary, regarded me silently awhile, then I saw his grim lips twitch suddenly and he broke into a peal of softly modulated laughter. "Our sucking dove can roar, it seems, George--our lamb can bellow on occasion. On me soul, I begin to hope we were perhaps a trifle out in our estimation of him. There was an evil word very well meant and heartily expressed!" And he laughed again; then his long arm shot out, though whether to cuff or pat my head I do not know nor stayed to enquire, for, eluding that white hand, I vaulted nimbly over the balustrade and, from the flower bed below, bowed to him with a flourish.