I was staggered, but I recovered sufficiently to tell her she was quite welcome.
She turned to go. Then she turned back.
“Doctor Bayliss asked me to play tennis with him tomorrow morning,” she said. “May I?”
“May you? Why, of course you may, if you wish, I suppose. Why in the world do you ask my permission?”
“Oh, don't you wish me to ask? I inferred from what you said at Wrayton that you did wish me to ask permission concerning many things.”
“I wished—I said—oh, don't be silly, please! Haven't we had silliness enough for one afternoon, Miss Morley.”
“My Christian name is Frances. May I play tennis with Doctor Bayliss to-morrow morning, Uncle Hosea?”
“Of course you may. How could I prevent it, even if I wished, which I don't.”
“Thank you, Uncle Hosea. Mr. Worcester is going to play also. We need a fourth. I can borrow another racket. Will you be my partner, Uncle Hosea?”
“I? Your partner?”