John seized her hands and for a moment the two stood smiling and looking into each other's face. Except that he was grayer, Levine was unchanged. He broke the silence to say, "Well! Well! young Lydia, you are grown up. I don't see how you manage to look so grown up, when your face remains unchanged."
"It's my hair," said Lydia, "and my skirts."
"Of course," growled Amos, "I realize that I count only as Lydia's father. Still I think you ought to recognize me, anyhow."
The two men clasped hands. "Well, Amos?"
"It's been a long time between drinks, John."
"I know it, Amos, but my chore's done. Now, I'll stay home and enjoy life. Lydia, is it too hot for waffles and coffee, for supper? Lord, I've dreamed of those old days and of this meeting for nine months."
"It's not too hot for anything on earth you can ask for," returned Lydia, beginning to roll up her sleeves. "I'll go right in and start them now."
John looked after her, at the lengthened skirts, at the gold braids wrapped round her head. "She doesn't change except in size, thank God," he said.
"Oh, she gets prettier," said Amos, carelessly. "She's sort of grown up to her mouth, and the way she wears her hair shows the fine set of her head. She's improved a lot."
"She has not! Amos, you never did appreciate her. She couldn't be any more charming now than she was as a kiddie."