“My dear little lady, I think you’re just the one element wanting in our male community: a little girl in our midst will save us from settling down into the savages we’re fast becoming,” replied the gentleman, glancing down in an amused way at her from his superior height.
“Well, isn’t that welcome enough?” he asked, still with that comical smile, as Inna gave a [p30] puzzled glance at him, as if not quite comprehending his high talk, and fumbling in her dress pocket.
“I have a letter that will tell you all about me—why I’ve come, you know,” said she.
“Ah yes, Dr. Willett’s letter,” he remarked, taking the missive from her and balancing it between his finger and thumb. Just then Oscar came back with a rush.
“I know all about you, and who you are,” said he, putting down the cup and saucer he had brought with a clatter. “You’re a sort of half-cousin of mine, and a great-niece of Uncle Jonathan’s,” he blurted out.
“Well, since you know so much, suppose you come here and enlighten your new half-cousin as to who I am. She has mistaken me for her uncle—and naturally too, since you, as host for the time being, were rude enough not to introduce us.”
At this reproach Oscar left his tea-making, and approached the two: Inna with burning cheeks, at her mistake about this unknown gentleman, not her uncle.
“Well, this is Mr. Barlow—Dr. Barlow, some [p31] people call him, but he’s no such thing; he’s a surgeon, and the one who plays David to Uncle Jonathan—you understand?” questioned the boy, with humour sparkling in his blue-grey eyes.
“Yes,” nodded Inna shyly; “his very dear friend, you mean.”
“Yes, that’s about the figure,” was the response, while the two bowed with ceremony.