“I suppose I will have to go around to her house, and tell her all about it and read it to her.”
“Is it written so I can read it?” said Uncle Robert, glancing over the pages. “Very neat indeed. Now I will do something for you, if you want me to save you the bother. Just to be obliging, I will take your play and will go around and tell Miss Hooker that I am Rosanna’s uncle, and read it to her myself.”
“Why, you know her name!” said Rosanna.
“Um—yes,” said Uncle Robert. “I must have heard it somewhere. For goodness’ sake, Rosanna, this place is like an oven!”
“You are red,” admitted Rosanna. “Well, I wish you would do that, please, because it makes me feel so queer to read it myself. It won’t take you long so we will wait up for you to tell us what she thinks.”
“I wouldn’t wait up,” advised Uncle Robert, getting up. “If she likes me, it may take some time.”
“Likes you?” said Rosanna.
“I mean likes the way I read it, and likes the play, and likes the idea, and likes everything about it,” said Uncle Robert. He said good-bye and hurried off, bearing the precious paper.
The girls sat and planned for awhile, when the doorbell rang. Rosanna could hear the distant tinkle, and saying “Perhaps he is back,” ran into the hall to look over the banisters.
She returned with a surprised look on her face.