"If you please, uncle."
"I am a dunderhead. Timothy!"
No genii in Eastern tales ever appeared more promptly at a summons.
"Yes, sir."
"Make some tea; the best--quick!"
Timothy glanced at Nansie, nodded, and vanished.
"That is my assistant," said Mr. Loveday; "a treasure. A man, a boy, a girl, a woman, rolled into one. He can sew on buttons."
Nansie laughed, and Mr. Loveday gasped.
"Don't mind me," he said, in explanation. "Your laugh is so like your mother's. You see, Nansie, until I grow more accustomed to you, I shall find myself driven into the past."
There was a deep tenderness in his voice, and she took his hand in hers.