"Has the bell
rung?"
"No," said Dimple, "but Uncle Heath is coming, you know, and I want to
meet him. Come down when you are ready."
Florence being wide awake by this time, concluded to get up, and Dimple
ran downstairs, patting the baluster with one hand as she went.
When she reached the lowest step she was caught up by a pair of arms,
and found her face close to her Uncle Heath's whiskers.
"Oh! Uncle Heath," she cried, "do let me hug you. I am so glad to see
you. I'm gladder than anybody."
"I hope not," said her father from the doorway.
"Yes, I am," said Dimple, as her uncle carried her into the parlor, and
held her on his knee. "Uncle Heath, are you very happy?"
"Indeed, I am," said he, laughing, as did Dimple's papa and mamma.
"Quite a home thrust," said her papa.
"The reason I asked," she went on, playing with her uncle's watch chain,
"is, that I heard papa say the other day, 'I am so glad for dear old
Heath.'"
"He has reason to be," responded her uncle. "Dimple, how should you like
a new aunt and cousin?"
"Oh, uncle! Is it Rock?"
"Well, not Rock altogether," laughed he. "Rock's mother, as well."
"Please tell me, Uncle Heath."
"So I will, little girl. Rock's mother is going to be your grey-headed
uncle's wife. That makes Rock your cousin, doesn't it?"
"Yes," said Dimple, cuddling up to him, "but you are not grey-headed,
Uncle Heath, only grey-templed," she said, softly patting each side of
his face.
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