This, too, was rather embarrassing, but I managed to say I thought Mr. Porter didn't look a day over twenty-eight.
"It's the life he leads," Dad declared with an air of proprietorship—"out of doors all day long. It must be great!"
"It IS interesting. But I think I like it best for what it has done for one; you see, I was supposed to have lungs once, long ago. Now I'm as sound as a dollar."
"He looks it, doesn't he, Elizabeth!"
If Dad hadn't been such a dear, I should have been annoyed by his constant requests for my opinion where it was so obviously unnecessary. But Dad is such a dear. To make it worse, Mr. Porter seemed to consider that whether he was, or was not, as sound as a dollar, depended entirely on my answer.
"One would think I was a sort of supreme court from the way Dad refers all questions to me. But I warn you, Mr. Porter; my 'yes' or 'no' makes little difference in his opinions."
"You are my supreme court, and they do," declared Dad.
"I'm sure they do," said Mr. Porter,
"When the novelty of having me with you has worn off, you'll be your same old domineering self, Daddy dear."
"Domineering! Hear the minx! I'm a regular lamb, Porter. That reminds me: When are you going to California!"