"You would?" she looked at him eagerly. "Then don't you think you might tell Mother you'll have me? I know she wouldn't mind."
He smiled at her impetuosity. "We must be patient, my princess," he said. "These things can't be done offhand, if at all."
She slid her arm round his neck and hugged him. "But there is the weeniest, teeniest chance, isn't there? 'Cos you do think you'd like to have me if I was good, and I'd—love—to belong to you. Is there just the wee-est little chance, Uncle St. Bernard? Would it be any good praying for it?"
He took her little hand into his warm kind grasp, for she was quivering all over with excitement.
"Yes, pray, little one!" he said. "You may not get exactly what you want. But there will be an answer if you keep on. Be sure of that!"
Tessa nodded comprehension. "All right. I will. And you will too, won't you? It'll be fun both praying for the same thing, won't it? Oh, my wine! I nearly spilt it."
"Better drink it and make it safe!" he said with a twinkle. "I'm going to drink mine, and then we'll go on to the verandah and wait for something to happen."
"Is something going to happen?" asked Tessa, with a shiver of delighted anticipation.
He laughed. "Perhaps,—if we live long enough."
Tessa drank her wine almost casually. "Come on!" she said. "Let's go!"