10
THE STUDENTS JOURNAL.
STUDY WINDOW
UNCLE DICK'S THANKSGIVING
Uncle Dick was not my uncle; he was nobody's uncle so far as I know. But he was known as "Uncle Dick" to every one in the little town in which he lived, and in this way had a great many nephews and nices.
Uncle Dick was a little man; he was under the average height: and he was old, quite old. But he was the most energetic man in town. There was never a day when he was not upon the streets, either taking a walk or dropping in to see his friends; and as he made these visits systematically, we could tell when to expect him. I was Uncle Dick's next-door neighbor, but for no such reason as that did he omit the formality of a call. Every Thursday I expected him and he always came.
Whenever I saw Uncle Dick coming through the gate, I would pull a big,easy, rocking chair up before the front window; for Uncle Dick always liked an easy chair, and always wished to sit in front of the window. Then, as I opened the door, he would come in smiling, and lay aside his hat.
"Might get bald, you know," he would alwas say: it was one of his standard jokes and I never failed to laugh at it, although he repeated it every time he came. He would sit down then in his customary seat and the conversation would begin. It was a queer kind of conversation, for Uncle Dick did not believe in using any more words than were absolutely necessary to make himself understood.
He looked so funny, sitting in the great big arm chair! He was so short that when he rocked backwards, his feet did not reach the floor. He had a great mass of hair, through which he used to run his fingers, making it stand on end like the quills of a porcupine. This was his way of entertaining the children of his acquaintance. He had a queer little beard—not upon his chin "where the beard ought to grow," but just underneath it. His face was clean-shaven, and his mouth showed two rows of exquisitly white teeth—they were false. When he talked, Uncle Dick opened and closed his mouth in such a way as to give to his beard a decided up and down movement. It was a most emphatic beard!
After he had seated himself, Uncle Dick would place his elbows on the two arms of
the chair, and bring his hands together until his fingers touched, tip to tip. Then he would begin to rock, keeping this position thought his entire stay.
"Fine day, this." he almost always opened the conversation with. And then the lips were pursed and the beard thrust forward, and Uncle Dick cared very little whether I answered him or not.
"And how are you?" I would ask, if he failed to find anything more to say.
"Well, quite well," was always the answer in the same short manner.
In this way his visit was passed. He rarely stayed longer than twenty minutes, and sometimes, he would say scarcely anything during that time. I was usually sewing, and I continued my work, while Uncle Dick sat rocking and looking out of the window. But at the end of his twenty minutes, he would jump up.
"Must be off-'nother call to make." and off he was. trotting down the street at a rapid rate.
Uncle Dick seemed to be very happy. You would never guess, to see him walk quickly along, or stop to give a friendly shake of the hand to some friend who was passing, that he was bearing a heavy burden of grief. Indeed, his cheerfulness was a constant surprise to his acquaintances knowing as they did the sorrow that he had to bear. One year before the opening of this story, Uncle Dick's wife had died, and Uncle Dick wa then left entirely alone in the world, for he had no children. For this fact, and because he was most devoted to his wife, his loss was doubly hard. Uncle Dick and his wife had lived next door to me for twenty years and were the happiest couple I have ever known. Uncle Dick was very handy about the kitchen and always helped in their small household tasks; he could wipe dishes as well as any girl. It was a very pleasing sight to see him rubbing the plates, and keeping time to his movements by whistling. Sometimes too he would get so lively as to perform a jig upon the kitchen floor to the infinite despair of his little wife. But that was in his younger days; it was later that he began his system of calls.
Uncle Dick's wife was a wee little woman, of rather delicate health, and very dainty ways. As she grew older, she became quite feeble, and was forced to spend a portion of every day in bed. Uncle Dick was of too