One of Uncle Keith's carefully hoarded logs
blazed and crackled in the roomy fireplace, a delicious aroma of coffee
and smoking ham pervaded the room. Aunt Agatha, in her pretty morning
cap, was placing a vase of hothouse flowers some old pupil had sent her
in the centre of the table, and the bullfinch was whistling as merrily
as ever, while old Tom watched him, sleepily, from the rug. I was rather
long warming my hands and stroking his sleek fur, for somehow I could
not bring myself to look or speak in quite my ordinary manner; and
though Uncle Keith did his best to enliven us by reading out scraps from
his newspaper, I am afraid we gave him only a partial attention. When
Uncle Keith had bade me a husky good-bye, and had gone to his office,
Aunt Agatha and I made a grand feint of being busy. There was very
little to do, really, but I considered it incumbent to be in a great
state of activity. I am afraid to say how many times I ran up and down
stairs for articles that were safely deposited at the bottom of my box.
Aunt Agatha put a stop to it at last by taking my hand and putting me
forcibly in Uncle Keith's big chair.
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