"So you are this young lady's uncle?" he inquired. It was Barbara
who answered.
"Not my really uncle," she announced. "He's just my make-believe
uncle. He says he's my step-uncle 'cause he comes to our back
steps so much. But he's almost better than a real uncle," she
declared, emphatically.
The major laughed heartily and said he was sure of it. He seemed
to find the pair hugely entertaining.
"Well, good-by," he said. "I hope you and your uncle will visit us
again soon. And I hope next time no one will take him for a spy."
Jed looked mournfully at the fire. "I've been took for a fool
often enough," he observed, "but a spy is a consider'ble worse
guess."
Grover looked at him. "I'm not so sure," he said. "I imagine both
guesses would be equally bad. Well, good-by. Don't forget to come
again."
"Thank you, thank you. And when you're over to Orham drop in some
day and see Babbie and me. Anybody--the constable or anybody--will
tell you where I live."
Their visitor laughed, thanked him, and hurried away. Said Barbara
between spoonfuls:
"He's a real nice officer one, isn't he, Uncle Jed? Petunia and I
like him."
During the rest of the afternoon they walked along the beach,
picked up shells, inspected "horse-foot" crabs, jelly fish and
"sand collars," and enjoyed themselves so thoroughly that it was
after four when they started for home.
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