Mr. Norris was a very curious old man, who liked to be well informed about his neighbours, for he took a lively interest in every one.
"Father was not born in London," Una explained. "He has often told me he was brought up in the country, and he knows all about country things—animals, and birds, and flowers! Oh, no, father is not a Londoner!"
There was a moment's brief silence, during which Una regarded the old man earnestly, her soft, dark eyes fixed on his somewhat grim face with eager interest.
"I wonder if you would think me very rude if I asked you a question?" she enquired presently in doubtful tones.
"That would depend what the question was," he answered cautiously, but with an amused twinkle in his eyes which the little girl was quick to notice.
"It is only that I should like to know how old you are," she said frankly; "that is, if you are quite sure you do not mind telling me!"
"I am seventy-nine. Ah, that is a great age, little lady!"
"It is indeed!" she agreed. "Seventy-nine! But a great many of the Bible people lived much longer than that! You must be very wise, Mr.—, I don't know your name. Should you mind if I called you Granfer, like Nellie and Bessie do?"
"No," he answered, in evident surprise, "I do not mind; but perhaps your father would not like it, my dear?"
"Oh, yes, he will! Father always likes what I like if it's right; and if it's wrong, he tells me, and then, of course, I don't like it any longer!"