"No, no, no!" cried old Jonas, screwing up his face until it looked like the seed-ball of a sweet-gum tree. "There are some things a man has to do whether he's used to them or not. Come here and kiss me if you really want to." Adelaide turned, tossing her head as if she were growner than a grown woman, and went toward old Jonas with the queerest little smile ever seen. Her feelings had been dreadfully hurt, but not a quiver of mouth or eyelid disclosed the fact, and only Cally-Lou knew it. Old Jonas sat down in his favourite chair, and took the child on his knee. If he had to be a martyr, he would go through the performance as gracefully as he could. Adelaide made great preparations. She felt of his chin with one hand, while she threw the other around his neck. She seemed to know instinctively that old Jonas was rather timid when it came to kissing people, and she went to his rescue. "Now, I'm not going to kiss him until all you people turn your heads away. No, that won't do! You've got to turn clean around, and look the other way!" She waited until she had been obeyed, and then, as nimbly as a humming-bird kisses a flower, she kissed the grim old man, and slid from his knee. "Ten-ten-double-ten-forty-five-fifteen!" exclaimed Mr. Sanders. "All eyes open! I'm gwine to peep!" Adelaide laughed joyously, and when Mr. Sanders turned around she was standing in the middle of the floor. "You're It!" he said to Jonas. Then the smile disappeared from his face. "Lucindy," he said, "do you reckon Mr. Whipple would buss me ef I was to ast him?" The question was a little too much for Lucindy, and she disappeared in the direction of the kitchen, bent double with laughter. "Sanders, why do you make a joke out of everything? Did you ever reflect that there is somewhere a limit to some things?" "I certainly do, Jonas, an' you come mighty nigh reachin' it wi' me awhile ago. Ef you hadn't 'a' let that child kiss you when she wanted to, I'd 'a' went out'n yon' door an' I'd 'a' never darkened it ag'in--not in this world." "Well, your common sense should tell you, Sanders, that people ain't made alike. What you are keen to do I have no appetite for, and what I'm fond of, you have no relish for. That's plain enough, I reckon." "Ef that's a conundrum, Jonas, I thank my Maker that the answer is plain, yes!" Old Jonas looked hard at Mr. Sanders as though he wanted to say something. He stuck out his chin, and looked toward the ceiling; then he looked at the floor, and began to rub his hands briskly together. Then his thought came out: "Sanders," he said, almost hospitably, "suppose you stay to supper to-night; or, if you can't stay until supper's ready, suppose you come back to supper? How will that suit you? I----" "Well, I'll tell you the truth, Jonas: ef you think you need me for to pertect you from that child, you're mighty much mistaken. I don't believe that Miss Adelaide would harm a ha'r on your head, few as you've got."