“Don’t ask me such a question, John Ten Eyck! I’m sure I have no desire to be reminded of how old we are growing. Do you know, you are actually getting fat and bald; and here I am with hair as white as snow.”
“But your face is as young as ever, Sallie,” declared the gallant major.
“Isn’t it, Major Ten Eyck?” exclaimed Ruth, who had found her voice at last. “She is just as pretty as she was thirty years ago, I am certain. Papa says she is, at any rate.”
“So she is, my dear,” agreed the old man as he gazed with undisguised admiration into Miss Sallie’s smiling face.
“Do sit down,” said Miss Sallie, slightly confused, “and tell us where you have been, and what you have been doing these last three decades.”
“It would take too long, I fear,” replied the major, looking at his watch. “I am looking for my two nephews this morning.”
“You mean Martin’s sons, I suppose?” asked Miss Sallie.
“Yes, they are coming down to stay with me at my old place, back yonder in the hills. They are bringing one or two friends with them, and we shall motor over this afternoon if the weather permits. But tell me, what are you doing here? Spending the summer? Don’t you find it a little dull, young ladies?”
“Oh, we are just on a motor trip, too,” replied Ruth. “We are birds of passage, and stop only as long as it pleases us.”
“And have you no men along, to look after you and protect you from highwaymen, or mend the tires when they are punctured?”