“No,” said Jeremy.
“Bet you do. I always did when I was at school. Any good at games?”
“No,” said Jeremy, suddenly to his own surprise determining that he would tell his uncle nothing.
“That’s like your father. Never any good at games, were you, Herbert? Remember when we tossed you in a blanket and your head bumped on the ceiling?”
Mr. Cole gave a sickly smile.
“That was a lark. I can see it as though it were yesterday. With your legs sticking out of your nightdress——”
Luckily at this point tea arrived, and everyone was very busy. Uncle Percy sat down and then was suddenly aware of Helen. She was looking her prettiest in her blue silk; she knew better than to push herself forward. She had waited patiently through all the examination of Jeremy, certain that her time would come. And it did.
“Why, there’s a pretty one!” he jerked his great body upwards. “Why, I hardly saw you just now! And you’re Helen!”
“Yes, uncle.” She smiled that smile so beautifully designed for worth-while relations.
He stared at her with all his eyes. “Why, you’re a beauty, ’pon my soul, you are! Come and sit here beside your old uncle and tell him how all the boys run after you. I’m sure they do if boys are still the same as when I was young. Come along, now, and tell me all about it.”