She paused and kissed him again.
“So now, Uncy, you’re going to hear Miss Holland speak just to make me happy—aren’t you?”
“To make you happy—yes—”
He couldn’t say more. The arms were too tight about his neck.
He drew them gently down.
“This is what I dread in politics, dear—when the women go in to win. We’ve graft enough now. When the boys run up against this sort of thing—God help us!—and God save the country if you should happen to make a mistake in what you ask for! Well, you’ve won this fight—come on, let’s get up front and hear the argument. I hate to stand on the edge and wonder what the hen is saying when she crows—”
Zonia handed his hat and cane and, radiant with smiles, opened the door.
“I suppose we’ll let Marya stay with Grandpa?” he asked.
“They’ve been gone half an hour!”