Adelaide laughed joyously, and when Mr. Sanders turned around she was standing in the middle of the floor.
"You're It!" he said to Jonas. Then the smile disappeared from his face. "Lucindy," he said, "do you reckon Mr. Whipple would buss me ef I was to ast him?" The question was a little too much for Lucindy, and she disappeared in the direction of the kitchen, bent double with laughter.
"Sanders, why do you make a joke out of everything? Did you ever reflect that there is somewhere a limit to some things?"
"I certainly do, Jonas, an' you come mighty nigh reachin' it wi' me awhile ago. Ef you hadn't 'a' let that child kiss you when she wanted to, I'd 'a' went out'n yon' door an' I'd 'a' never darkened it ag'in—not in this world."
"Well, your common sense should tell you, Sanders, that people ain't made alike. What you are keen to do I have no appetite for, and what I'm fond of, you have no relish for. That's plain enough, I reckon."
"Ef that's a conundrum, Jonas, I thank my Maker that the answer is plain, yes!"
Old Jonas looked hard at Mr. Sanders as though he wanted to say something. He stuck out his chin, and looked toward the ceiling; then he looked at the floor, and began to rub his hands briskly together. Then his thought came out: "Sanders," he said, almost hospitably, "suppose you stay to supper to-night; or, if you can't stay until supper's ready, suppose you come back to supper? How will that suit you? I——"
"Well, I'll tell you the truth, Jonas: ef you think you need me for to pertect you from that child, you're mighty much mistaken. I don't believe that Miss Adelaide would harm a ha'r on your head, few as you've got."
"Nonsense, Sanders! you twist every mortal thing around in your mind, and you are never happy until you set your best friends up as a target for your folly. Answer my question: will you take supper with—with us?"
Mr. Sanders regarded old Jonas with real interest. His mild but fearless blue eyes studied the other's face as if they would read there the solution to some mystery. "Yes, Jonas; I'll not stay to supper, but I'll come back in time for supper. But don't publish it; ef the public know'd anything about it, they might think I was tryin' for to wheedle you out of a loan, an' then what'd happen? Why, all my creditors would come swarmin' aroun' me like gnats aroun' a sleepin' dog. I could jest as well stay right here tell supper time, but I'm oblidze for to git out an' walk about a little, an' git the amazement out'n my system. Off an' on, Jonas, I've been a-knowin' you mighty nigh thirty year, an' this is the fust time you've ast me to take a meal in your house. I feel as funny as a flushed pa'tridge!"