He has some vigorous views of fatherhood and the obligations flowing therefrom--and I can't say but he is right--and now he worries about his own great neglect.

He has talked to me about it, so I know.

Sometimes he worries himself sick, and then his nervous trouble gets the overhand." Chester lay on the grass looking up into the sky, complacently chewing a spear of grass, while Uncle Gilbert was talking.
"What was the woman's name ?" asked Chester.
"I can't recall it just now.

In fact, I don't think I ever heard it.
Now, another thing that you must know, and you must not be annoyed at this: at times, I believe he imagines you to be that boy of his." Chester sat up, and exactly at the moment when he looked into the face of Uncle Gilbert a cog in the machinery of his own thoughts caught into a cog of the wheel within wheels which the man at his side had been revealing.

The cog caught, then slipped, then caught again.