taffy could not remember where she had left her copy of the new mary roberts rinehart novel, so she began looking in all the rooms, including the spare bedrooms and guest rooms.
a man was sleeping in the bed in the green bedroom. his face was turned to the wall, but she was sure she had never seen him before.
she went in search of her mother, and found her in the blue library, with a book in her lap, staring into space.
“there is a man sleeping in the green bedroom.”
“oh, that is just uncle philip.”
“uncle philip. yes, i think i remember uncle philip being mentioned somewhere before.”
“i am sure you have.”
“there are a lot of uncles. and aunts. and cousins. it is hard to keep track of them all.”
“yes, it is, dear. no one is blaming you for not doing so.”
“what does uncle philip do?”
“he is a drinker.”
“a drinker! do you mean that he is a drinker in the same way that father is a banker, and uncle john is a surgeon, and uncle theodore is in the state department?”
“exactly.”
“and is being a drinker considered an honorable occupation?”
“by some people. your great-uncle samuel, who flourished before your time, was a great drinker, and could expound at great length on the social utility of the drinker, as providing honest work for whole armies of hops and rye and barley gatherers, brewery workers, bartenders and barmaids, importers and exporters and their clerks, liquor store clerks, draymen, and horses.”
“i see. be that as it may, what is uncle philip doing here right now?”
“he is resting.”
“from what?”
“he has just spent three weeks in a rest home in kingston.”
“so now he is resting up from being in a rest home?”
“why, yes, in a manner of speaking.”
“and how long is he staying, or is that a rude question?”
a figure appeared in the doorway. it was taffy’s older brother, frederick, a young man who had just finished his first year at princeton.
“talking about poor uncle philip, are we? i could not help overhearing your conversation.”
“you never can, can you?” taffy said. “perhaps you can embark on a career as an overhearer, as uncle philip has as a drinker.”
“yes,” frederick answered. “uncle theodore has already floated the idea of getting me into the state department. in any case, i think philip deserves a rest from the rest home, no less than i do from princeton.”
“taffy was just asking how long philip is staying,” mrs mortimer addressed frederick. “no more than a few days. perhaps you could run him back to the city, frederick, when he is ready.”
“i would be delighted to. may i take the rolls? it could use a good spin.”
“i do not see why not, as long as barker certifies it as in working order. perhaps you could go with them, taffy. you have been talking about seeing some of your chums in the city.”
“and trust myself to frederick’s driving?”
“i am an excellent driver, “ frederick protested.
“yes, an excellent flouter of the rules of the road.”
frederick ordered a big stack of pancakes with sausages. taffy only ordered coffee, and philip did the same, observing, “i still don’t have much of an appetite.”
but as frederick shoveled the pancakes and sausages down his throat like a hired man , philip relented and said, “maybe i will have one of those sausages.”
philip attempted to take the greasy sausage off the fork but it slipped out of his fingers on to his lap, and then on to the floor.
“i am sorry, uncle philip ,” taffy said. “that was rude of me. but you know children these days have no respect.”
philip stopped sniffling, and began sipping his black coffee, which he thought was the worst he had ever tasted.
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