"May I ask poor Bet to spend Thursday afternoon with me, Uncle Bobo?" Joy asked one hot August morning as she was ready for school. "May I, please? It's early closing day, and we have a half-holiday. Dear Goody Patience says she will take us to the sands, and perhaps Jim Curtis may give us a row. I should like that."
"Well, I have no objection, my pretty one; the poor thing has no treats!"
"Treats! Oh, Uncle Bobo, she is miserable! Her grandmother is so sharp, and tells her she is a useless fright, and things like that. And then there's her Uncle Joe, he is horrid!"
Mr. Boyd laughed.
"Ah, ah! Miss Pinckney's suitor; he isn't very nice, I must say."
"Suitor, Uncle Bobo; what's a suitor?"
"You'll know time enough, my dear, time enough. You'll have a score of them, I dare say; and I hope not one of them will be like Master Skinner, that's all. He's like one of the lean kine you read to me about last Sunday in the Bible. But leanness is no sin; p'r'aps he'll get fatter by-and-by."
Little Miss Joy was mystified, and repeated to herself, and then aloud:
"Does suitor mean the same as 'young man' and 'lover,' I wonder?"
"Bless the child's innocence! Yes, my dear, you've got it now."