"From what?"
"Another relative. Parbleu! I have enough." She stamped her foot impatiently as she spoke. "I should be very terrible to you. I should say the meanest things. I should call you grandpapa and give you a new cane every Christmas."
"And if you gave me also a smile, I should be content."
More than once I was near declaring myself that day, but I had a mighty fear she was playing with me, and held my tongue. There was an odd light in her eyes. I knew not, then, what it meant.
"You are easily satisfied," was her answer.
"I am to leave soon," I said. "May I not see you here to-morrow?"
"Alas! I do not think you can," was her answer.
"And why not?"
"Because it would not be proper," said she, smiling as she looked up at me.
"Not proper! I should like to know why."