"Don't you call me a wicked child," said Polly darting at him. "Now for your nose."
"Spare me! Spare me!" cried her uncle, putting up both hands. "I'll be good, Polly; I will indeed, but if you spoil my features, how can you expect Miss Ainslee ever to like me? If you'll promise to be good and say nice things about your dear uncle, I'll let you be bridesmaid."
"Oh, Dick, you silly boy!" expostulated his sister. "Don't fill the child's head with such notions. He hardly knows Miss Ainslee, Polly, and it will make her so uncomfortable that she will leave, in a month, if your Uncle Dick keeps up this sort of nonsense."
This hushed up Master Dick and he began to ask Polly such silly questions as: "What is the result of half a dozen ears of corn and a pint of Lima beans?"
"You can't add ears and pints," protested Polly stoutly.
"Oh, yes, you can," returned her uncle jauntily. "Luella does it often and the result is succotash."
Polly made a contemptuous mouth at him.
He laughed and went on. "Here's another. When apples are ten cents a quart how much are blueberries?"
"Why, why—they're just the same. Aren't they?" Polly appealed to her Aunt Ada.
"The blueberries are less; they're always less; they're smaller, you see," her uncle answered.