It is time you were taught other than tom-boy
ways."
John went by into the house. After dinner the Squire had his usual game
of whist, always to the dissatisfaction of Leila, whose thoughts wandered
like birds on the wing, from twig to twig. John usually played far
better, but just now worse than his cousin, and forgot or revoked, to his
uncle's disgust. A man of rather settled habits, now as usual Penhallow
went to his library for the company of the pipe, which Ann disliked, and
the _Tribune_, which she regarded as the organ of Satanic politics.
Seeing both John and her aunt absorbed in their books, Leila passed
quickly back of them, opened the library door, and said softly, "May I
come in, Uncle Jim?"
During the last few days he had missed, and he well knew why, John's
visits and intelligent questions. Leila was welcome. "Why, of course,
pussy cat. Come in. Shut the door; your aunt dislikes the pipe smoke. Sit
down." For some reason she desired to stand. "Don't stand," he said, "sit
down on my knee." She obeyed. "There," he said, "that's comfy. How heavy
you are. Good gracious, child! what am I to do without you?"
"Isn't it awful, Uncle Jim."
"It is--it is. What do you want, my dear? Anything wrong with the
horses?"
"No, sir. It's--John--"
"Oh! it's John.
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