"I suppose so; I never thought it before, but if he's frightened of a wee thing like a babe, he must be. But, young-old Aunt Norah, you ought to tell granddad."
"I will, in good time, child; only it must be in my own way and in my own time. Samuel is the most blessed and holy man in the whole world."
"Well, I don't think he's quite that; for if he were he wouldn't play games like puss-in-the-corner and round the mulberry tree and blind-man's buff; and then, Aunt Norah, you can't call him handsome. His nose, it cocks right up, and there's very little of it; and his mouth is so wide; and he has teeny eyes; and his head is getting bald. Do you want to marry a man with a bald head, Aunt Norah? I'll tell you how I found it out. I saw you and him and Aunt Bridget talking and laughing and giggling the other day, and I thought it wasn't to say—well! what old-youngs did."
"You little prude," said Aunt Norah in an angry voice.
"Well, but it wasn't, old-young Aunt Norah."
"You are not to call me 'old-young'; I won't have it."
"Well, old, then."
"I'm not old."
"Whatever am I to call you, for you are not young?"