"You have made it quite bright enough--put it down," said my uncle.
I put it down. The storm was gathering: I could not do better than allow
it to blow over.
But suddenly, as if overtaken by a strange fancy, my uncle took up the
enormous morion and turned and examined it on all sides.
"A handsome piece of armour, there is no doubt about it; but it must
have weighed pretty heavily on its wearer's shoulders," he muttered;
and, urged by I know not what demon, he clapped it on his head and
latched the gorget-piece about his neck.
Struck almost speechless, I watched what he was doing--thinking only
how ugly he looked.
Suddenly there was a sharp sound--as if a spring had
snapped--and--crack!--down fell the visor; and there was my uncle, with
his head in an iron cage, gesticulating and swearing like a pagan!
I could contain myself no longer, and burst into a roar of laughter; for
my uncle, stumpy, fat, and rubicund, presented an irresistibly comic
appearance.
[Illustration: "THREATENINGLY HE CAME TOWARDS ME."]
Threateningly, he came towards me.
"The hinges!--the hinges, fool!" he yelled.