"Why not imagine the murders, suicides, political meetings, and other
trash that fills 'em, and save your money for terbacker?" This did Uncle
Ith, and he flattered himself that it was wisely done.
The bell tower was not far from the boy's home, and in a few minutes he
stood at the foot of it, and shouted to Uncle Ith: "Hallo, there!"
Uncle Ith, always on the alert for calls, poked his head out of the
window, which he left partly open for ventilation in the coldest nights,
and answered, rather gruffly, "Well, what's wanted?" He never allowed
his own children, nor any persons except his nephew Bog, and a few old
firemen, friends of his, to visit him in the tower at night. Uncle Ith
was conscientious. The presence of his children, with whom he loved to
converse, or that of strangers, who would stare vacantly all over the
lighted city, and ask innumerable questions, interfered with the
strictness of his watch. Uncle Ith was a little eccentric, too, in his
devotion to duty.
"It's me, uncle," said Bog, screaming upward.
"Glad to see you, Bog. You can come up," shouted the old man in return.
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