“Well, I didn’t, either.”
“But you’re tough, Uncle Doug; Guy is delicate.”
“They generally are, at his age,” Briggs acknowledged, dryly, “especially when they have just come out of college.”
“I think you’re horrid to say such things about Guy, when he helps you so, too. I’ve just been up to see him.”
Briggs sat back in his chair. “W-h-hat!” he exclaimed.
“Oh, you needn’t be shocked! I just peeked in. He was sound asleep, with his head resting on one hand, just like this, and the sweetest little blush on his face, and his hair in the cunningest little bang on his forehead. I was so relieved about one thing.”
“What’s that?”
Fanny looked stealthily around the room. “He doesn’t snore!” she said, with her hand over her mouth.
“Oh! But suppose he had snored?”
Fanny slid from the desk and drew herself up. “Then, of course, I should have been obliged to—well, to break the——”