This was the first time Uncle Bond had ever spoken to him in this way. The wonder, of course, was that he had never spoken to him, in this way, before. Did the little man know what had happened the night before? No. That was impossible. Judith would not, Judith could not, have disclosed what had happened to him. It must be his own unerring instinct, his own sure knowledge of human nature, which had prompted the little man to deliver this sermon. This sermon? This generous, kindly, tactful, whimsical reproof. How well deserved the reproof was, the events of the night before had shown. "I am sorry, Uncle Bond. I have been very thoughtless," he said. "It will not happen again." "Judith and I appreciate your visits, my boy," Uncle Bond continued. "It would be a matter of very great regret to--both of us--if we found that we had--to limit, in any way--the hospitality, which we have been so glad to offer you. We wish, we both wish, to maintain our present, pleasant relationship, unchanged. That is your wish, too, I think?" The King let out the car once again. His emotions, his thoughts required, now, the relief of speed. "Somehow, I can never bear to think of any change, where you, and Judith, and the Imps are concerned, Uncle Bond," he exclaimed. "Somehow, I can never think of you, except all together, in the surroundings you have made your own. And that is strange, you know! We are all, as you say--human. Judith--Judith is the superior of every woman I have ever met. Her place is, her place ought to be, by right, at the head of the procession. And yet, somehow, I can never see her there!" Uncle Bond sat very still. "At the head of the procession?" he murmured. "Is that so enviable a position, my boy? Ask the man, ask the men, you find there!" He chuckled then unaccountably. The King winced. It was only one of the chance flashes of cynicism, with which Uncle Bond salted his talk, of course. But how true, and apposite, to his own position, and experience, the remark was! "And, if the head of the procession is no enviable place for a man, what would it be for a woman, for a woman with a heart?" Uncle Bond proceeded. "'Pon my soul, I am talking pure 'Cynthia'!" he exclaimed. "'Cynthia' has begun to function, at last! That last sentence was in the lazy minx's best style. Judith will have told you that 'Cynthia' has been giving me a lot of trouble lately? You have lured her back, my boy. I thank you! You always attract her. She has a weakness for handsome young men. Her heroes are always Apollos." He half turned, in his seat, towards the King.