One problem was unexpectedly solved by the appearance of Uncle
Jimpson, who announced that "he had done come back home to stay." The
distinction of driving forth daily in solitary grandeur to exercise
the Sequins' horses, had palled upon him, and the prospect of
conducting the Queerington boarders back and forth to the station, and
renewing his intimacy with old John and Mike, had proven irresistible.
Aunt Caroline had died in the early spring, and Uncle Jimpson found
even the society of Myrtella a relief after his enforced loneliness.
He listened with bulging eyes and sagging jaw to her accounts of the
latest murders and obeyed her slightest command with a briskness that
would have amazed the old Colonel.
"We's helpin' Miss Lady git a start," he would say proudly again and
again, "an' then maybe she git married some more."
"Married!" Myrtella would flare, "yes, she orter git married to
another widower with three children, and a thousand kin folks.
Besides, who's she going to marry?"
"Ain't no trouble 'bout dat," Uncle Jimpson said wisely; "you jes' let
her peek over de blinds onct, an' you see what gwine happen."
"Well, she ain't going to peek," Myrtella said firmly.
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