The old gentleman thrust his white head out of an open window at the top, and said, “All right.  Come up.”

The door at the foot of the tower was open, and the young couple proceeded to comply with the invitation.  Bog led the way, and gently dragged Pet from step to step, with much laughter on his part, and many charming little feminine screams on her party until the trap door was reached.  Uncle Ith had combed his hair with his five fingers, retied his old black cravat, and put on his coat, to receive them.  He smiled through the trap door, as they came in sight, and said, “Be very careful of the young lady, Bog.  Mind, now, how the young lady steps.”

Bog jumped through the trap door into the cupola.  Then he lowered a hand to Pet, and Uncle Ith lent her the same assistance, and the two raised the precious burden to a place of safety.  Uncle Ith, after he had been introduced to Pet, proudly, by his nephew, looked at her for a moment in silent admiration.  He had never seen her before, but he knew her well from Bog’s descriptions (hurriedly communicated by Bog when they had met in the street), and said to himself that the boy had done no more than justice to her rare beauty.

Then Uncle Ith looked at his nephew.  “Ah, Bog,” said he, shaking his head at him, “what changes Time does make!  It seems only a few days ago that you was a little scrub of a chap, runnin’ ‘round town and pickin’ up your livin’.  And a very good and honest livin’ you picked up, too.  Now, here you are, a nicely dressed, tall, handsome young man, with a snug little fortun’ all of your own earnin’, not to mention your bein’ the adopted son of that splendid old gentleman, Myndert Van Quintem.  And, last and best, you are goin’ to be married to this dear young lady to-morrer.”

Pet blushed; and Bog said, “That is why we are here to-day, dear uncle.  We must have you at the wedding.”

Uncle Ith faltered.  “Me at Mr. Van Quintem’s!  I should feel like a fish out o’ water.”  He said nothing about the antiquated blue coat with brass buttons, the short, black trousers, and the figured satin vest, hanging up in a closet at home; but he thought of them, and what a stiff figure he would cut in them.

“But you must come, Uncle Ith!” said Pet, with her sweetest smile.  “I ask it as a particular favor.”

“You are my only living relative, you know, uncle,” added Bog.

“We should not be happy, if you were away,” said Pet, placing her hand confidingly on the old man’s shoulder.  Young persons always took to the good old man in this spontaneous way.

The entreaties of the couple, and the continual iteration of that name by which he loved to be called—­“Uncle Ith”—­finally overcame his objections.  He reconciled himself to the prospect of the blue coat, short trousers, and gaudy vest, and solemnly promised to attend the wedding.