1.

　　Uncle Chris walked breezily into the room, flicking a jaunty glove.

　　He stopped short on seeing that Mr Pilkington was not alone.

　　"Oh, I beg your pardon! I understood . . ." He peered at Jilluncertainly. Mr Pilkington affected a dim, artistic lighting-systemin his studio, and people who entered from the great outdoorsgenerally had to take time to accustom their eyes to it. "If you'reengaged . . .""Er--allow me . . . Miss Mariner . . . Major Selby.""Hullo, Uncle Chris!" said Jill.

　　"God bless my soul!" ejaculated that startled gentleman adventurer,and collapsed onto a settee as if his legs had been mown from underhim.

　　"I've been looking for you all over New York," said Jill.

　　Mr Pilkington found himself unequal to the intellectual pressure ofthe conversation.

　　"Uncle Chris?" he said with a note of feeble enquiry in his voice.

　　"Major Selby is my uncle.""Are you sure?" said Mr Pilkington. "I mean . . ."Not being able to ascertain, after a moment's self-examination, whathe did mean, he relapsed into silence.

　　"Whatever are you doing here?" asked Uncle Chris.

　　"I've been having tea with Mr Pilkington.""But . . . but why Mr Pilkington?""Well, he invited me.""But how do you know him?""We met at the theatre.""Theatre?"Otis Pilkington recovered his power of speech.

　　"Miss Mariner is rehearsing with a little play in which I aminterested," he explained.

　　Uncle Chris half rose from the settee. He blinked twice in rapidsuccession. Jill had never seen him so shaken from his customarypoise.

　　"Don't tell me you have gone on the stage, Jill!""I have. I'm in the chorus . . .""Ensemble," corrected Mr Pilkington softly.

　　"I'm in the ensemble of a piece called 'The Rose of America.' We'vebeen rehearsing for ever so long."Uncle Chris digested this information in silence for a moment. Hepulled at his short mustache.

　　"Why, of course!" he said at length. Jill, who know him so well,could tell by the restored ring of cheeriness in his tone that he washimself again. He had dealt with this situation in his mind and wasprepared to cope with it. The surmise was confirmed the next instantwhen he rose and stationed himself in front of the fire. MrPilkington detested steam-heat and had scoured the city till he hadfound a studio apartment with an open fireplace. Uncle Chris spreadhis legs and expanded his chest. "Of course," he said. "I remembernow that you told me in your letter that you were thinking of goingon the stage. My niece," explained Uncle Chris to the attentive MrPilkington, "came over from England on a later boat. I was notexpecting her for some weeks. Hence my surprise at meeting her here.