" His pride in Patsy was unbounded. That she should have
succeeded at all in mastering that imposing looking instrument--making
it actually "play chunes"--was surely a thing to wonder at. But then,
Patsy could do anything, if she but tried.
Suddenly Uncle John gave a dreadful snort and sat bolt upright, gazing
at his companions with a startled look that melted into one of benign
complacency as he observed his surroundings and realized where he was.
The interruption gave Patsy an opportunity to stop playing the tune. She
swung around on the stool and looked with amusement at her newly
awakened uncle.
"You've been asleep," she said.
"No, indeed; quite a mistake," replied the little man, seriously. "I've
only been thinking."
"An' such _beaut_chiful thoughts," observed the Major, testily, for he
resented the interruption of his Sunday afternoon treat. "You thought
'em aloud, sir, and the sound of it was a bad imithation of a bullfrog
in a marsh. You'll have to give up eating the salad, sir."
"Bah! don't I know?" asked Uncle John, indignantly.
"Well, if your knowledge is better than our hearing, I suppose you do,"
retorted the Major. "But to an ignorant individual like meself the
impression conveyed was that you snored like a man that has forgotten
his manners an' gone to sleep in the prisence of a lady.
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