"No, no." He jumped up, and stood very tall and smiling in front of her, with his hands behind his back, like a guilty urchin. "You've forgotten. When you caught me with silvery fingers, I used to be awfully alarmed. I always tried to disarm you by saying 'I was afraid you'd scold.' Then you would say, 'I never scold. I point out your defects—it's what I'm here for.'"
They all laughed, the two girls with some misgiving.
This repartee still did service on occasion.
"Oh, but those were good times!" Yet even as he said the words the gay look faded out of his face. "It was a long while ago."
"It's nineteen years," said John Gano, who was wrestling with a fit of coughing. These attacks were such a commonplace in the family life that the rest were aware of this one only when Ethan said:
"What a frightful cough you've got, Uncle John."
"No—nothing unusual. It begins like this when the cold weather comes on."
"Oh, father, you don't call to-day cold!" said Emmie.
"Your uncle is much better than he used to be," said Mrs. Gano, rising with her habitual every-day decision, and glancing at the clock. "You must be tired, Ethan?"