"It is," nodded he.
They had proceeded far in their acquaintance. Elly Precious had been so tiny a thing between them, as they ministered to him! It was not to be wondered at that they had drawn closer. After his professional "call," John Bradford fell into the way of lingering till she brought him tea.
"Talk about women loving tea!" she gibed gayly.
"Talk about it being the men that want three lumps!"
"That is queer, isn't it? We're the wrong way about; I like mine sweet and you don't want any sugar. We're the exceptions that prove the rule. If you'll hold Elly Precious a minute, I'll fill your cup."
"That will make three."
"'And I'll do it again, if you like—and again if you like!'" she quoted.
"Are you making stories now?" she asked him that day.
And he nodded gravely, "One—a love-story."
"Tell me about it! We want to hear it, don't we, Elly Precious? We love love-stories."