"The child stared at her uncle so seriously that he was actually embarrassed"
"Oh, Nunky-Punky!" she cried, "you didn't kiss me when I comed, and everybody said you would, cause I asked 'em particular."
"Honey," said Mr. Sanders, "le' me stand in Nunky-Punky's shoes while the kissin' is gwine on, bekaze he ain't shaved in two days, and his whiskers'll scratch your face."
But Adelaide ran to old Jonas, and held out her little arms to be lifted up. Jonas hesitated; he looked at Lucindy, then at Mr. Sanders, and finally allowed his glance to fall on the sweetly solemn face of the child. He tried to say something, to make some excuse, but he could think of none. He was not only dreadfully embarrassed, he was actually ashamed. Not in forty years had any one ever asked to kiss him and, whether you count it backward or forward, forty years is a long time. Mr. Sanders tried to pilot him through the deep water—so to speak—in which he found himself. "Sit down, Jonas, and take Miss Adelaide on your knee, an' let the thing be done right. Kinder shet your eyes an' pucker your mouth, and she'll do the rest."
"Sanders," said old Jonas, bristling up again, "if you really want to hurt my feelings just say so. You have no real delicacy about you. How do you know some one hasn't told the little girl that it is her duty to pretend to want to kiss her uncle, whether she wants to or not? Tell me that!" Old Jonas's eyes glistened under his overhanging brows, and if "looks" could kill a man, Mr. Sanders would have fallen down dead. Adelaide dropped her arms, and stood close to old Jonas's knee, looking quite forlorn. "Well, come on, Cally-Lou, Uncle Jonas has a very bad cold and a headache, and we mustn't bother him."
"No, no, no!" cried old Jonas, screwing up his face until it looked like the seed-ball of a sweet-gum tree. "There are some things a man has to do whether he's used to them or not. Come here and kiss me if you really want to." Adelaide turned, tossing her head as if she were growner than a grown woman, and went toward old Jonas with the queerest little smile ever seen. Her feelings had been dreadfully hurt, but not a quiver of mouth or eyelid disclosed the fact, and only Cally-Lou knew it. Old Jonas sat down in his favourite chair, and took the child on his knee. If he had to be a martyr, he would go through the performance as gracefully as he could. Adelaide made great preparations. She felt of his chin with one hand, while she threw the other around his neck. She seemed to know instinctively that old Jonas was rather timid when it came to kissing people, and she went to his rescue. "Now, I'm not going to kiss him until all you people turn your heads away. No, that won't do! You've got to turn clean around, and look the other way!" She waited until she had been obeyed, and then, as nimbly as a humming-bird kisses a flower, she kissed the grim old man, and slid from his knee.
"Ten-ten-double-ten-forty-five-fifteen!" exclaimed Mr. Sanders. "All eyes open! I'm gwine to peep!"