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old gentleman dressed in grav, who bows so
politely, and has such a friendly smile for
everybody. Yes, all the world knows him.
He is not really my uncle—or any one’s uncle,
that I know of; every one just calls him Uncle,
because it seems as if it exactly suited him.
He is certainly the kindest person in the world.
All poor people love him; and he likes all
people and all animals.
His wife is Aunt Octavia, and they are very
rich and live in a charming house, with lots
of rooms, where there are a great many
beauti-ful things, works of art and such things. Off
in her little boudoir, Aunt Octavia lies on a
sofa all day. She is not really ill, Mother says;
she just lies there because she is so rich. My!
if I had as much money as Aunt Octavia, I
should do something besides lie on a sofa with
my eyes shut!
Uncle Ferdinand and Aunt Octavia have no
children. That is why they are both so terribly
fond of pets. Aunt Octavia likes best little
white silky poodles that are bathed in luke
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