You see I so often find a yardstick measures my own
height, I know the humiliating sensation it is. And I'm never more
convinced of my own smallness than when I see my uncles and their
families at Christmas, especially Uncle Rufus. Do you know which one he
is?"
"You were dancing with him when I came in."
"I didn't see you come in."
"I might have known that," he admitted with a rueful laugh. "Well, did
you dance an old-fashioned square dance with him, and is he a delightful
looking, elderly gentleman with a face like a jolly boy?"
"Exactly that--and he's a boy in heart, too, but a man in mind. I wonder
if--"
"He'd care to meet me? I'm sure you weren't going to ask if I'd care to
meet him. But I'd consider it an honour if he'd let me be presented to
him."
"Now you're talking properly," said she. "It is an honour to be allowed
to know Uncle Rufus, and I think you'll feel it so." She rose.
He got up reluctantly. "Thank you, I certainly shall," said he quite
soberly. "But--must we go this minute? Surely you can sit out one
number, and I'll promise after that to stand on my head and dance with a
broomstick if it will please your guests.
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