Why is it so difficult to get on with some folk, very worthy people in their way?

Why do some people invariably rub up one’s fur until it bristles with discomfort?  Why do these same thoroughly estimable creatures bring a sort of moral east wind with them, scarifying one’s nerves?  Surely it is beneath the dignity of a human being to be rasped by a harsh, drawling voice, or offended by trifling mannerisms.  Uncle Keith was just like one of my sums—­you might add him up, subtract from him, divide or multiply him, but he would never come right in the end; one always reckoned that he was more or less than he was.  He was a little, pale, washed-out looking man, with sandy hair and prominent brown eyes.  Being an old bachelor when he married Aunt Agatha, he had very precise, formal ways, and was methodical and punctual to a fault.  Next to Uncle Keith, I hated that white-faced watch of his.  I hated the slow, ponderous way in which he drew it from his pocket, and produced it for my special benefit.

I have said that my detestation of Uncle Keith was somewhat unreasonable.  I must own I had no grave reasons for my dislike.  Uncle Keith had a good moral character; he was a steady church-goer, was painstaking and abstemious; never put himself in a passion, or, indeed, lost his temper for a minute; but how was a girl to tolerate a man who spent five minutes scraping his boots before he entered his own door, whatever the weather might be; who said, “Hir-rumph” (humph was what he meant) before every sentence, booming at one like a great bee; who always prefaced a lecture with a “my dear;” who would not read a paper until it was warmed; who would burn every cinder before fresh coals were allowed on the fire; who looked reproachfully at my crumbs (I crumbled my bread purposely at last), and scooped them carefully in his hand for the benefit of the birds, with the invariable remark, “Waste not, want not,” a saying I learnt to detest?

I suppose if we are ever admitted into heaven we shall find very odd people there; but perhaps they will have dropped their trying ways and peculiarities, as the chrysalis drops its case, and may develop all sorts of new prismatic glories.  I once heard a lady say that she was afraid the society there would be rather mixed; she was a very exclusive person; but Solomon tells us that there is nothing new under the sun, so I suppose we shall never be without our modern Pharisees and Sadducees.  The grand idea to me is that there will be room for all.  I do not know when the idea first came to me that it was a mean thing to live under a man’s roof, eating his bread and warming oneself at his fire, and all the time despising him in one’s heart.  I only know that one day the idea took possession of me, and, like an Eastern mustard seed, grew and flourished.  Soon after that Uncle Keith had rather a serious loss—­some mercantile venture in which he was interested had come to grief.  I began to notice small retrenchments in the household; certain little luxuries were given up.  Now and then Aunt Agatha grew a little grave as she balanced her weekly accounts.  One night I took myself to task.