Then one day dear Mrs. Bunter got a letter from a legal firm in the
City, advising her that her uncle was dead--her old curmudgeon of an
uncle--a retired stockbroker, a heartless, petrified antiquity that had
lasted on and on. He was nearly ninety, I believe; and if I were to meet
his venerable ghost this minute, I would try to take him by the throat
and strangle him.