At last she had to stop and join in the laughter.
“I think you are all mean,” she added. “You always laugh at me!”
“With you, little jabberer,” corrected the colonel; “for you were made to be laughed with and kissed.”
“Then kiss me,” she exclaimed, and sprang into his lap, at the imminent risk of deluging them both with “elixir”—a risk which the colonel, through long experience of this little daughter of his, was able to minimize by holding the glass at arm’s length as she dived for him.
“And when are you going to be married?” he asked.
“Oh, not for ages and ages!” she cried.
“But are you and Guy engaged?”
“Of course not!”
“Then why in the world all this talk about getting married?” he inquired, his eyes twinkling.
“Well, can’t I talk?” she demanded.