"
Nora, just behind them, reached forward and touched Rose's shoulder.
"Run right in," she said, "the gentleman's waiting to see you."
For the moment she forgot Polly, and hastening across the great hall,
lest Uncle John might guess that she did not wish to meet him, little
Rose Atherton entered the long, cool parlor, and found herself face to
face with a tall, handsome man, who rose to greet her. His waving hair
was touched with gray, his brown eyes were merry.
"So this is little Rose," he said, "will you come and let me look at
you? Why, who made the dainty wreath for you?"
He offered not one, but both his hands to her, and with a happy cry, she
laid her little hands in his.
"Will you come for a few days and make me a visit?" he asked. "You will
have a pleasant time, and we shall get acquainted. I think I can make
you like me, little Rose."
"Oh, I do, I DO like you NOW!" she cried, and her little heart was
filled with delight.
Here was a cheery, handsome young uncle, in place of the unattractive
old uncle that she had supposed awaited her.
"Don't remove your wreath," he said, as she raised her hands toward the
flowers, "because it is really very becoming. Were you playing alone
when I arrived?"
"Oh, no," said Rose, "I was so glad when I saw you, because--" she
hesitated.
"Because?" he said, his eyes twinkling.
"Because you aren't OLD. I thought my Uncle John MUST be 'most ninety,"
she said softly, so that Aunt Lois might not hear.
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