Once a Week by A. A. Milne

  UNCLE EDWARD

  Celia has more relations than would seem possible. I am graduallygetting to know some them by sight and a few more by name, but I stillmake mistakes. The other day, for instance, she happened to say she wasgoing to a concert with Uncle Godfrey.

  "Godfrey," I said, "Godfrey. No, don't tell me--I shall get it in amoment. Godfrey ... Yes, that's it; he's the architect. He lives atLiverpool, has five children, and sent us the asparagus-cooler as awedding present."

  "No marks," said Celia.

  "Then he's the unmarried one in Scotland who breeds terriers. I knew Ishould get it."

  "As a matter of fact he lives in London and breeds oratorios."

  "It's the same idea. That was the one I meant. The great point is that Iplaced him. Now give me another one." I leant forward eagerly.

  "Well, I was just going to ask you--have you arranged anything aboutMonday?"

  "Monday," I said, "Monday. No, don't tell me--I shall get it in amoment. Monday ... He's the one who---- Oh, you mean the day of theweek?"

  "Who's a funny?" asked Celia of the teapot.

  "Sorry; I really thought you meant another relation. What am I doing?I'm playing golf if I can find somebody to play with."

  "Well, ask Edward."

  I could place Edward at once. Edward, I need hardly say, is Celia'suncle; one of the ones I have not yet met. He married a very young auntof hers, not much older than Celia.

  "But I don't know him," I said.

  "It doesn't matter. Write and ask him to meet you at the golf club. I'msure he'd love to."

  "Wouldn't he think it rather cool, this sudden attack from a perfectlyunknown nephew? I fancy the first step ought to come from uncle."

  "But you're older than he is."

  "True. It's rather a tricky point in etiquette. Well, I'll risk it."

  This was the letter I sent to him:--

  "MY DEAR UNCLE EDWARD,--Why haven't you written to me this term? I have spent the five shillings you gave me when I came back; it was awfully ripping of you to give it to me, but I have spent it now. Are you coming down to see me this term? If you aren't you might write to me; there is a post-office here where you can change postal orders.

  "What I really meant to say was, can you play golf with me on Monday at Mudbury Hill? I am your new and favourite nephew, and it is quite time we met. Be at the club-house at 2.30, if you can. I don't quite know how we shall recognize each other, but the well-dressed man in the nut-brown suit will probably be me. My features are plain but good, except where I fell against the bath-taps yesterday. If you have fallen against anything which would give me a clue to your face you might let me know. Also you might let me know if you are a professor at golf; if you are, I will read some more books on the subject between now and Monday. Just at the moment my game is putrid.

  "Your niece and my wife sends her love. Good-bye. I was top of my class in Latin last week. I must now stop, as it is my bath-night.

  "I am, "Your loving "NEPHEW."

  The next day I had a letter from my uncle:--

  "MY DEAR NEPHEW,--I was so glad to get your nice little letter and to hear that you were working hard. Let me know when it is your bath-night again; these things always interest me. I shall be delighted to play golf with you on Monday. You will have no difficulty in recognizing me. I should describe myself roughly as something like Apollo and something like Little Tich, if you know what I mean. It depends how you come up to me. I am an excellent golfer and never take more than two putts in a bunker.

  "Till 2.30 then. I enclose a postal-order for sixpence, to see you through the rest of the term.

  "Your favourite uncle, "EDWARD."

  I showed it to Celia.

  "Perhaps you could describe him more minutely," I said. "I hatewandering about vaguely and asking everybody I see if he's my uncle. Itseems so odd."

  "You're sure to meet all right," said Celia confidently. "He's--well,he's nice-looking and--and clean-shaven--and, oh, _you'll_ recognizehim."

  At 2.30 on Monday I arrived at the club-house and waited for my uncle.Various people appeared, but none seemed in want of a nephew. When 2.45came there was still no available uncle. True, there was one unattachedman reading in a corner of the smoke-room, but he had a moustache--thesort of heavy moustache one associates with a major.

  At three o'clock I became desperate. After all, Celia had not seenEdward for some time. Perhaps he had grown a moustache lately; perhapshe had grown one specially for to-day. At any rate there would be noharm in asking this major man if he was my uncle. Even if he wasn't hemight give me a game of golf.

  "Excuse me," I said politely, "but are you by any chance my UncleEdward?"

  "Your _what_?"

  "I was almost certain you weren't, but I thought I'd just ask. I'msorry."

  "Not at all. Naturally one wants to find one's uncle. Have you--er--losthim long?"

  "Years," I said sadly. "Er--I wonder if you would care to adopt me--Imean, give me a game this afternoon. My man hasn't turned up."

  "By all means. I'm not very great."

  "Neither am I. Shall we start now? Good."

  I was sorry to miss Edward, but I wasn't going to miss a game of golf onsuch a lovely day. My spirits rose. Not even the fact that there were nocaddies left and I had to carry my own clubs could depress me.

  The Major drove. I am not going to describe the whole game; though mycleek shot at the fifth hole, from a hanging lie to within two feet ofthe---- However, I mustn't go into that now. But it surprised the Majora good deal. And when at the next hole I laid my brassie absolutelydead, he---- But I can tell you about that some other time. It issufficient to say now that, when we reached the seventeenth tee, I wasone up.

  We both played the seventeenth well. He was a foot from the hole infour. I played my third from the edge of the green, and was ridiculouslyshort, giving myself a twenty-foot putt for the hole. Leaving my clubsI went forward with the putter, and by the absurdest luck pushed theball in.

  "Good," said the Major. "Your game."

  I went back for my clubs. When I turned round the Major was walkingcarelessly off to the next tee, leaving the flag lying on the green andmy ball still in the tin.

  "Slacker," I said to myself, and walked up to the hole.

  And then I had a terrible shock. I saw in the tin, not my ball, but amoustache!

  "Am I going mad?" I said. "I could have sworn that I drove off with a'Colonel,' and yet I seem to have holed out with a Major's moustache!" Ipicked it up and hurried after him.

  "Major," I said, "excuse me, you've dropped your moustache. It fell offat the critical stage of the match; the shock of losing was too much foryou; the strain of----"

  He turned his clean-shaven face round and grinned at me.

  "On second thoughts," he said, "I _am_ your long-lost uncle."