“I only got out of the way, ma’am, if you mean me by old man,” said he.
“And what’s the use of people who are not in the way when they are wanted?” said she. “Old men like you——”
“I’m not an old man,” said Norval, interrupting.
“When were you born?” said the old lady, snappishly.
“Eight years ago,” said Norval.
“Then you’re eight years old.” Norval did not see any answer to this, and she went on, “Does your papa ever tell lies?”
“No,” said Norval, indignantly.
“Doesn’t he call you his little man sometimes?”
“Yes.”
“Then you’re old and you’re a man, so you’re an old man.”