"You're such a slippery customer," she went on, "here to-day and gone to-morrow sort of chap. I suppose I could put Stolly off," she went on meditatively, raising her eyes and looking at him.
"I wouldn't do that," he protested. "I can't help thinking how disappointed I should be in his place."
"Plenty of feeling for others you have, haven't you?" she observed sarcastically. "I don't know as I care about going out with Stolly. He's always worrying me to get engaged."
"I've wondered more than once," he told her confidentially, "why you haven't been engaged long ago. How old are you? Twenty?"
"I am twenty-two," she confessed, "and if I'm not engaged, it's because I haven't been over-anxious. I don't think much of these young fellows round here. I feel, somehow, as though I wanted something different."
He sighed sympathetically, and then, as though with an effort, turned back to his bench.
"If the old man wakes up and finds I'm not working," he remarked, "he'll be annoyed."
"You can get on with your work, then," she replied. "I'm going to talk to him for a minute or two. Be good."
She gave him a little backward nod, enigmatically encouraging, and left him, closing the door softly behind her. She made her way into the stuffy little parlour and shook her grandfather by the shoulder.
"Wake up, old man," she exhorted. "Nice thing going to sleep over the fire in the middle of the afternoon!"