Uncle Beck had a fine collection of American Letters. I found a complete set of Hawthorne and straightway became a moody and sombre Puritan ... and I wrote in Hawthornian prose, quaint essays and stories. And I lived in a world of old lace and lavender, of crinoline and brocade. And then I discovered my uncle's books on gynecology and obstetrics ... full of guilty fevers I waited until he had gone out on a call and then slunk into his office to read.... One afternoon my doctor-uncle came suddenly upon me, taking me unaware. * * * * * "Johnnie, what are you up to?" "--was just reading your medical books." "Come over here," already seated at his desk, on his swivel-chair, he motioned me to a seat. "Sit down!" I obeyed him in humiliated silence. He rose and closed the door, hanging the sign "Busy" outside. * * * * * At last I learned about myself and about life. * * * * * The harvesting over, Anders began to chum with me. We took long walks together, talking of many things ... but, chiefly, of course, of those things that take up the minds of adolescents ... of the mysteries of creation, of life at its source ... of why men and women are so ... and I took it for granted, after he confessed that he had fallen into the same mistakes as I, suffering similar agonies, that he had been set right by his father, the doctor, as I just had. I was surprised to find he had not. So I shared with him the recent knowledge I had acquired. * * * * * "And you mean to tell me that Uncle Beck has said nothing to you?" "Not a single word ... never." "But why didn't you ask him then ... him being a doctor?" "How can a fellow talk with his father about such things?" "It's funny to me he didn't inform you, anyhow." "I was his son, you see!" * * * * * Anders had a girl, he told me, confidingly. She was off on a visit to Mornington, at present ... a mighty pretty little girl and the best there was.... * * * * * "By the way, Anders, do you know second cousin Phoebe at all?" "Sure thing I know her ... the last time I heard of her ... which was almost a year ago--she was wilder than ever." "How do you mean, Anders?" "Her folks couldn't keep her in of nights ... a gang of boys and girls would come and whistle for her, and she'd get out, sooner or later, and join them." "I tell you what," I began, in an unpremeditated burst of invention, which I straightway believed, it so appealed to my imagination, "I've never told anybody before, but all these years I've been desperately in love with Phoebe." Anders scrutinised me quizzically, then the enthusiasm of the actor in my face made him believe me.... "Well, no matter how bad she is, she certainly was a beaut, the last time I saw her."