Keep the flowers on yer heads an' go right in," said Nora.
"Who is it, Nora?" Rose asked, her eyes bright with excitement.
"Well, I do'no whether she'd want yer ter be surprised or let me tell
yer, but--it's yer Uncle John!"
The smiles fled from their faces.
"Uncle John!" gasped Rose. "Oh, Nora, is he very old? Does he carry a
cane? Is he deaf? Is he going to take me away from here?"
She had clasped her hands nervously, and stood waiting for Nora to
answer her questions.
"Now, Miss Rose," said Nora, her eyes twinkling, "I think ye better go
right in an' see him."
"But should you think he's over NINETY?" persisted Rose.
"Well I shouldn't say he was OVER that," Nora replied dryly.
"Come Polly," said Rose. "There's nothing else to do but to go in."
With lagging steps they walked along the path and turned toward the
house. Then for the first time they saw the automobile in which the
guest had arrived.
"Why, who drove him here?" said Rose. "Look! There's no man waiting in
it, and if he's NINETY he wouldn't drive alone, would he?"
Polly shook her head.
"Perhaps he isn't QUITE that," she said.
It was the only bit of encouragement that she could offer.
"I think I'll wait here on the piazza," she said when they had reached
the door.
"Why, don't you want to meet him?" Rose asked.
"Oh, yes," Polly answered, "but if he's--if he, oh, I don't quite know
how I mean it. I just thought perhaps you'd like to know him a little,
and then I'll come in, and _I'_LL know him, too.
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