You know he told you he could only come when it rained.'
'True,' said the old lady, looking fixedly upon her. True. I perhaps torment myself needlessly.'
'I'm quite sure you do,' Jill smiled upon her. 'And really you mustn't take Dick so seriously. You'll turn his head.'
The old lady shook hers. 'No. Ah, no; I shall never turn his head.'
'Well, you mustn't expect me to regret that, must you!' laughed Jill, and at that the old lady, eyeing her again, laughed also, saying, 'Ah, I see that you are witty, as he is. And you do not frighten me. I will come to you always when I fear that he means to be unkind.'
'Agreed!' said Jill. 'Between us we'll keep him in his place.'
'Tell me,' said the old lady, happily now, settling herself in her bergère, 'more about yourselves; more about him. You will forgive my insistence. I am a lonely old woman and never again shall I see people like you and your husband. He intrigues me; I long to understand him. What is his history? What is his family? Will you tell me?—as if to a child who begged for a fairy-tale?'
'His family? Well, he had rather an unhappy time with his family. His father and mother didn't get on at all.'
'They are still living?'
'She is; but Dick's father died when he was a boy.
