lots, only we don't look at the Sea Monster much). I thought, too,
that perhaps if we'd never thrown the message in the bottle into the
harbor, Aunt Ailsa and Uncle Andrew would never have been married
and lived happily ever after,--that is, they've lived happily so far
and I think they'll keep on. Because if we hadn't, the Bottle Man
would never have come sailing down to see us, and he might still be
thinking Aunt Ailsa had married the Mr. Thingummy, when she hadn't
at all.

He was such a nice Bottle Man! I sat there on the couch and thought
how splendid it would be when he was our own uncle, and I laughed
when I remembered how we'd imagined that he was an ancient old
gentleman. The wind began to rise outside. I could hear it whisking
around and bumping in the chimney, and I thought how glad I
was--_oh_, how glad, _glad_ I was--that we were all at home, and I
listened hard to the 'cello and tried not to remember the horrible
old Sea Monster.

Mother slipped in and sat down beside me, and when the music ended,
she said: "Greg wants to see the 'Bottle Man'." We asked if we might
come, too, because we hadn't seen Greg since they carried him up to
the house, all bloody and rumpled and dirty. So we all went up, and
Mother tip-toed in first with the lamp. He looked almost quite like
himself, with clean pajamas and his hair brushed and all the
frightened, hurt look gone out of his face.

The Bottle Man (I almost forget to call him that, because we've been
calling him Uncle Andrew for months) leaned over and said:

"Lots better now, old man?"