Suggesting Considerations possibly heretofore Overlooked by Commentators upon the Laws of Property

You will find Dudley up in what he calls his library,” said Mrs Albert in the hallway. “I’m so sorry I must go out—but he’ll be glad to see you. And—let me entreat you, don’t give him any encouragement!”

“What!” I cried, “encourage Uncle Dudley? Oh—never, never!”

“No, just be firm with him,” Mrs Albert went on. “Say that it mustn’t be thought of for a moment. And Oh—by the way—it’s as well to warn you: don’t ask him what he did it for! It seems that every one asks him that—and he gets quite enraged about it now, when that particular question is put. As like as not he’d throw something at you.” She spoke earnestly, in low, impressive tones.

“Wild horses should not drag it from me,” I pledged myself. “I will not encourage him: I will not enrage him; I swear not to ask him what he did it for. But—if you don’t mind—could I, so to speak, bear the shock of learning what it is that he has done?”

“You haven’t heard?” Mrs Albert asked, glancing up at me, with an astonished face, as I stood on the stairs. When I shook my head, she put out her hand to the latch, and opened the door, as if to heighten the dramatic suspense. Then she turned and looked me in the eye with solemn intentness. “What has he done?” she echoed in a hollow voice: “You go upstairs and see!”

The door closed behind her, and I made my way noiselessly, two steps at a time, to the floor above. Some vague sense of disaster seemed to brood over the silent, half-lighted stairway and the deserted landing. I knocked at Uncle Dudley’s door—almost prepared to find my signal unanswered. But no, his voice came back, cheerily enough, and I entered the room.

“Oh, it’s you!” said my friend, rising from his chair. “Glad to see you,”—and we shook hands. Standing thus, I found myself staring into his face with a rude and prolonged fixity of gaze, under which he first smiled—a strange, unwholesome sort of smile—then flushed a little, then scowled and averted his glance.

“Great heavens!” I exclaimed at last. “Why, man alive, what on earth possessed you to—”

“Come now!” broke in Uncle Dudley, with peremptory sternness. “Chuck it!”

“Yes—I know”—I stammered haltingly along—“I promised I wouldn’t ask you—but—”

“But the original simian instincts triumph over your resolutions, eh?” said my friend, crustily. “Yes, I know. I’ve had pretty nearly a week of it now. That question has been asked me, I estimate, somewhere about six hundred and seventy-eight times since last Thursday. It’s only fair to you to tell you that I have registered a vow to hit the next man who asks me that fool of a question—‘What did you do it for?’—straight under his left ear. I probably saved your life by interrupting you.”

Though the words were fierce, there was a marked return of geniality in the tone. I took the liberty of putting a hand over Uncle Dudley’s shoulder, and marching him across to the window.

“Let’s have a good look at you,” I said.

“I did it myself; I did it with my little hatchet; I did it because I wanted to; I had a right to do it; I should do it again if the fit struck me——” Thus, with mock gravity, Uncle Dudley ran on as I scrutinised his countenance in the strong light. “And furthermore,” he added, “I don’t care one single hurrah in Hades whether you like it or not.”

“I think on the whole,” I mused aloud—“yes, I think I rather do like it—now that I accustom myself to it.”

Uncle Dudley’s face brightened on the instant. “Do you really?” he exclaimed, and beamed upon me. In spite of his professed indifference to my opinion, it was obvious that I had pleased him.

“Sit down,” he said—“there are the matches behind you—hope these aren’t too green for you. Yes, my boy, I created quite a flutter in the hen-yard, I can tell you. Did my sister tell you?—she nearly fainted, and little Amy burst out boo-hooing as if she’d lost her last friend. When you come to think of it, old man, it’s really too ridiculous, you know.”

“It certainly has its grotesque aspects,” I admitted.

Uncle Dudley looked up sharply, as if suspecting some ironical meaning in my words. “You really do think it’s an improvement?” he asked, with a doubtful note in his voice.

“Of course, it makes a tremendous change,” I said, diplomatically, “and the novelty tends perhaps............