"Donald," said Uncle, without replying to Dorry's question. "Let me see. You are now fourteen years old?"
"Fourteen and ten days,—nearly half a month over fourteen," said Dorothy, promptly. "Aren't we, Donald? I'm so glad!"
Donald nodded, and Uncle placidly asked why she was glad.
"Because twins can't boss—I mean domineer—each other. If Don was the least bit older than me—I—me, it wouldn't be half so nice as starting fair and square."
Here she gave a satisfied little cough, and to her great surprise felt her uncle's arm immediately withdrawn.
"Stop your nonsense, Dorothy," said he, almost sternly, "and don't interrupt."
"Now Uncle's afraid again," thought Donald, but he felt so sorry for his sister that he said, in a tone of dignified respect: "Dorry didn't mean to be rude, Uncle."
"No, no. Certainly not," said that very puzzling individual, suddenly resuming his former position, and drawing the little lady toward him. "Where were we? Oh, yes! Fourteen years and ten days, is it?"
"Yes, sir, right to a minute," replied Donald, laughing.
"Well, there is no hurry, I am glad to say. I have been thinking of late, Donald, that a little boarding-school experience is a good thing for a boy."