Impulsively Stanton grabbed her small hands in his big ones, and raised them very tenderly to his lips.
"Are you a good boy?" she asked
"Oh, little Molly's little grandmother," he said; "nobody on the face of this snow-covered earth is good enough for your Molly, but won't you give me a chance? Couldn't you please give me a chance? Now—this minute? Is she so very ill?"
"No, she's not so very ill, that is, she's not sick in bed," mused the old lady waveringly. "She's well enough to be sitting up in her big chair in front of her open fire."
"Big chair—open fire?" quizzed Stanton. "Then, are there two chairs?" he asked casually.
"Why, yes," answered the little-grandmother in surprise.
"And a mantelpiece with a clock on it?" he probed.