'
* * * * *
"And that is how your father first met your mother, when she was a
little girl."
Drina laughed: "What a funny boy father was to run after a strange girl
on a polo pony! . . . Suppose--suppose he had not seen her, and had not
run after her. . . . Where would I be now, Uncle Philip? . . . Could you
please tell me?"
"Still aloft among the cherubim, sweetheart."
"But--whose uncle would you be? And who would Boots have found for a
comrade like me? . . . It's a good thing that father ran after that polo
pony. . . . Probably God arranged it. Do you think so?"
"There is no harm in thinking it," he said, smiling.
"No; no harm. I've known for a long while that He was taking care of
Boots for me until I grow up. Meanwhile, I know some very nice Harvard
freshmen and two boys from St. Paul and five from Groton. That helps,
you know."
"Helps what?" asked Selwyn, vastly amused.
"To pass the time until I am eighteen," said the child serenely, helping
herself to another soft, pale-green chunk of the aromatic paste.
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