“And you told me you didn’t think much of ‘aunt’ or ‘uncle,’ but that you liked ‘father’ and——”
“Yes, that was the time.”
“I remember perfectly.”
“You know, there’s another word I’ve thought of since then that I’ve wished I could—could have for my own.”
He seemed to be casting about for that other word.
“It’s a lovely word, too....” She drew closer to him. “Help me!” she pleaded, and when he looked into her eyes, a bit startled, she whispered—“Brother ... brother!” Her hand was on his shoulder, and then it slipped its way to his neck.
“Ah, that is a good word!” said Baron. And then the tempest of affection broke, and she had her arms about his neck.
He had no idea she was so strong. She was choking him a bit. But no, it wasn’t really the strength of her arms, after all, he realized.
And then, because his mother and Flora were watching, and because—well, because he was Baron, he straightened up and got possession of her hands again. He patted them lightly.
“It is a good word,” he repeated. “It’s one that has come to have a much bigger meaning for me since I knew you.”