“No,” continued Rosanna. “We were talking about Minnie getting married one day, and I said it was the only wedding I was ever apt to have anything to do with because I had heard you say many times that you were not a marrying man.”
“What did she say?” asked Uncle Robert in a sort of strangled voice which Rosanna, skipping along at his side, failed to notice.
“Oh, she said, ‘How interesting!’ and I said, ‘Isn’t it? Because he is nicer than anyone I know, but he says that girls never cut any figure in his young life except to play with.’”
“What did she say then?” demanded Mr. Horton.
“Nothing at all,” answered Rosanna, “but she is sensible too, because the next time I was there, she asked more about Minnie, and then she said she had decided never to marry. She said she liked to be polite to men and help them pass the time, and to assist them in worthy works, but further than that she despised the whole lot of them, especially blonds.” Rosanna looked up to see what color hair Uncle Robert had, and noticed a very queer look on his face.
“You look so queer, Uncle Robert,” she said tenderly. “Don’t you feel well?”
“No, I don’t,” said Uncle Robert. “I think if you will excuse me I will take a walk.”
“How do you feel?” persisted Rosanna.
“I feel—I feel queer,” said Uncle Robert. “I feel sort of as though I had been gassed.”