“Here are two people inquiring for you. They may come upon private business with you. I don’t know, of course. So, shall they come in here, or should you prefer to meet them first?” inquired Ran. “Oh! I know who they are! They are my niece and nevvy from Hantz. I’ll go and meet them!” said Dandy in a delighted tone. “And then bring them in here and introduce them to me,” said Ran. And Dandy followed the footman out into the hall. There he found a tall, thin, gray-haired man clothed in an ulster from head to heel, holding in his left hand a warm cap, and on his right arm a stout, rosy, handsome woman in a black velvet bonnet and a gray plaid shawl that nearly covered the whole of her black silk dress. “You—you—you are—my niece—Julia Quin—as was?” inquired old Dandy, moving doubtfully toward the smiling woman and holding out his hand. “Yes, indeed; that is, you are Uncle Andrew,” the visitor exclaimed, taking the offered hand. “Why, to be sure I am!” he cried, drawing her up and kissing her heartily. “And would you believe it, my wench, but this is the first time I have kissed a ’oman for more than twenty years! And now interdooce me to your hubby.” “There is hardly need; he knows who you are! Shake hands long o’ your nephy,” she answered, laughing. The two men simultaneously advanced and met. “I am proud to make your acquaintance, sir,” said John Legg. “So am I yours,” answered Dandy, cordially, if a little incoherently. “And you didn’t know me, Juley, did you, now?” “Not by sight, Uncle Andrew. You have changed some,” replied Mrs. Legg, smiling and showing all her fine teeth. “So have you! So have you! And a deal more ’n I have! I left you a tall, slim, fair wench under twenty, and I find you a broad, stout, rosy woman over forty. If that ain’t a change I’d like to know what a change is!” said Dandy triumphantly. “Why, your change! When you left us to seek your fortune in the gold fields of California you were a stout, broad-shouldered, red-faced and red-headed man of forty. Now you are a thin, pale, silver-haired old gentleman over sixty,” retorted Julia, artfully mingling flattery with truth. “Yes, that is so; that is so,” meekly assented old Dandy; and then, meditatively, he added: “And I like it to be so. I like to think a good deal of my body wasting away in the sweet, sunshiny air while still I am able to walk about in it; so as when, I leave it there’ll be only skin and bone to lay in the ground—or very little more.” “Oh, Uncle Dandy, don’t talk that a way! You can’t be much over sixty, and you may live to be over eighty or ninety—that is twenty or thirty years for you to live in this world.” “What for?” “‘What for?’ Why—why, to be a comfort to your dear niece who loves you,” replied Mrs. Legg, not consciously hypocritical, but self-deceived into the notion that she was sincere. “Ah!” grunted Dandy in a tone which left his niece in doubt whether he disbelieved her or not.