from the little I know of you, I am morally certain that you did not--
_did_ you, now?"

"Well, no!" reply I, rather crestfallen; "I certainly did not. I would,
though, in a minute, if I had thought that he wanted it."

"I wish," says Barbara, shutting the caddy with a snap, "that Providence
had willed to send the dear old fellow into the world twenty years later
than it did. In that case I should not at all have minded trying to be a
comfort to him."

"He must have been very good-looking, must not he?" say I, pensively,
staring at the red fire-caverns. "Very--before his hair turned gray. I
wonder what color it was?"

Visions of gold yellow, of sunshiny brown, of warm chestnut locks,
travel in succession before my mind's eye, and try in turn to adjust
themselves to the good and goodly weather-worn face, and wide blue eyes
of my new old friend.

"It is so nice and curly even now," I go on, "twice as curly as Algy's."

"Tongs," replies Algy, with short contempt, looking up from his list of
prohibitions.

"_Very_ good-looking!" repeat I, dogmatically, entirely ignoring the
last suggestion.

"Perhaps when this planet was young!" retorts he, with the superb
impertinence of twenty.