Mr.
Kendrick's hand was still tingling with the wringing grip of his
grandson's; his heart was warm with the remembrance of the way Richard's
brilliant eyes had looked into his as he had said, low in the old man's
ear--"I'm not less yours, grandfather--and she's yours, too." Roberta
had put both arms about his neck, whispering: "Indeed I am, dear
grandfather--if you'll have me." Well, it had been happiness enough,
and it was good to watch them as they went on with their joyous task,
knowing that he had a large share in their lives, and would continue to
have it.
"Bears up? I should say he did. He looks as if he could assist in
steadying the world upon the shoulders of old Atlas," answered Judge
Gray happily. "It's a trying position for any man, and some of them only
just escape looking craven."
"The man who could stand beside that young woman and look craven would
deserve to be hamstrung," was the other's verdict. "Cal, she's enough to
turn an old man's head; we can't wonder that a young one's is swimming.
And the best of it is that it isn't all looks, it's real beauty to the
core. She's rich in the qualities that stand wear in a wearing
world--and her goodness isn't the sort that will ever pall on her
husband.
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