He was short, stout and chubby-faced, with snow-white hair, mild blue eyes and an invariably cheery smile.
Simple in his tastes, modest and retiring, lacking the education and refinements of polite society, but shrewd and experienced in the affairs of the world, the little man found his greatest enjoyment in the family circle that he had been instrumental in founding.

Being no longer absorbed in business, he had come to detest its every detail, and so allowed his bankers to care for his fortune and his brother-in-law to disburse his income, while he himself strove to enjoy life in a shy and boyish fashion that was as unusual in a man of his wealth as it was admirable.

He had never married.
Patricia was the apple of Uncle John's eye, and the one goddess enshrined in her doting father's heart.

Glancing at her, as she sat here at table in her plain muslin gown, a stranger would be tempted to wonder why.

She was red-haired, freckled as a robin's egg, pug-nosed and wide-mouthed.