But suppose he pushed her clear under the table, or jerked it
entirely from under her, or did something worse than either? A girl
like Connie ought to have those things done for her. Well, he would
let it go this time. So he looked after Julia, and settled her so
comfortably, and was so assiduously attentive to her that he quite won
her heart, and before the meal was over she said he might come and live
with them and be her grandpa, if he wanted.
"Grandpa," he said facetiously. "Do I look as old as that? Can't I be
something better than a grandpa?"
"Well, only one papa's the style," said Julia doubtfully. "And you are
too big to be a baby, and--"
"Can't I be your uncle?" Then, glancing at Connie with a sudden
realization of the only possible way the uncle-ship could be
accomplished, he blushed.
"Yes, an uncle is better," said Connie imperturbably. "You must
remember, Julia dear, that men are very, very sensitive about their
ages, and you must always give them credit for youth."
"I see," said Julia. And Prince wondered how old Connie thought he
was, his hair was a little thin, not from age--always had been that
way--and he was as brown as a Zulu, but it was only sunburn. He'd
figure out a way of letting her know he was only thirty-two before the
evening was over.
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