"Oh not Uncle Frinklestein!" cried Tilly tugging her unruly brown locks.
"He's our last option dear" said her mother while patting Tilly affectionately on the shoulder.
"Well what about Grandma and Grandpa?" asked Tilly, her green eyes looking hopeful.
Father walked in: "They are on their annual skiing holiday in the French Alps, so you can't go there".
Tilly thought hard for a moment, "There is always Aunt Edna and Uncle Sherlock?"
Mother sighed, "They are at the jigsaw convention in London".
Tilly stomped off in a huff, pounding her stocky legs against the unfortunate marble tiles: "Where's family when you need them?" she wailed indignantly.
"Tilly Henrietta Furcone!" shouted her mother, "You are being extremely childish and ungrateful".
"Your mother’s right" added her father sternly.
They were going on an important business trip, strictly no children allowed; so Tilly had to stay with her eccentric uncle in his old neglected, Victorian mansion.

***