“She has gone away,” said Rosanna as an afterthought. “She went today. I told her I was sorry she wouldn’t be able to see what you brought me, and wouldn’t see you either, but she said it didn’t make any difference as she wasn’t any more anxious to see you than she supposed you were to see her.”
Uncle Robert laughed a short, queer laugh.
“Well, Rosanna, just you watch what happens now! I will just pay her up for that.”
“What do you care?” asked Rosanna. “I don’t see what difference it makes. She likes you all right; she thinks you are so funny.”
“I will show her how funny I can be,” said Uncle Robert. “Where has she gone?”
“To Atlantic City,” said Rosanna.
“I may see her there,” said Uncle Robert. “The doctor says the sea air would be great for me.”
“What ails you?” said Rosanna anxiously. “You look perfectly well.”
“A little trouble with my heart,” said Uncle Robert soberly. “It acts like the very deuce, Rosanna. Part of the time it feels sort of—sort of, well, sort of empty, and then it has spells when I get to thinking hard and beats as fast as it can. It is awful, Rosanna.”
“I should say it was!” said Rosanna, “Oh, Uncle Robert, do try to get it well! If anything should happen to you, I would think it was that benefit. You had to work so hard.”