In the midst of the suffering ones, Miriamne soon found herself, and as might be expected; there, too, was the “Old Clock Man.” As they met he said, laconically, “It is fitting that woman’s tender hands minister thus.”
“Thanks,” was her reply.
Presently Miriamne questions, with an unaffected diffidence, her companion.
“Will you tell me your name?”
“Call me father, that’s enough.”
“Ah! but I can not, you are not my father.”
“I may be.”
“What jest is this! I’ve a father living?”
“I am father to multitudes, but after the flesh, childless.”