“Why, to be sure, to be sure,” cried the Major, heartily, as he held out both hands. “You're welcome, gentlemen, as welcome as Christmas—what more can I say? But come in, come in to the fire. Cupid, the glasses!”
“Ah, the ladies first,” suggested Dan, lightly; “grace before meat, you know. So here you are, grandma, cap and all. And Virginia;—ye gods!—is this little Virginia?”
His laughing eyes were on her as she stood, tall and lovely, beneath a Christmas garland, and with the laughter still in them, they blazed with approval of her beauty. “Oh, but do you know, how did you do it?” he demanded with his blithe confidence, as if it mattered very little how his words were met.
“It wasn't any trouble, believe me,” responded Virginia, blushing, “not half so much trouble as you took to tie your neckerchief.”
Dan's hand went to his throat. “Then I may presume that it is mere natural genius,” he exclaimed.
“Genius, to grow tall?”
“Well, yes, just that—to grow tall,” then he caught sight of Betty, and held out his hand again. “And you, little comrade, you haven't grown up to the world, I see.”
Betty laughed and looked him over with the smile the Major loved. “I content myself with merely growing up to you,” she returned.
“Up to me? Why, you barely reach my shoulder.”
“Well, up to the greater part of you, at least.”