by H. Rider Haggard (Author)

"I have my idol," said his uncle, "and it has made me forget my sister and your mother. Had she not written at last when she was dying, I should have forgotten you too."

The boy looked up puzzled.

"An idol!"

"Yes," went on his uncle in his dreamy way -- "an idol. Many people have them; they keep them in the cupboard with their family skeleton; sometimes the two are identical. And they call them by many names, too; frequently it is a woman's name; sometimes that of a passion; sometimes that of a vice, but a virtue's -- not often."

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