“I should like to go anywhere with you, father. Even to—” and a pause.
“Even to heaven? Was that it?”
“Father, I don’t think of heaven as you do,” said Joan, tears springing to her eyes.
“Loving me will not take you to heaven, my child,” said George, very tenderly.
“No, father; but—”
“If I were called away, would you come after me?”
No answer came to this, and the ungloved brown hand, lying within his arm, trembled uneasily. Joan’s face was turned away.
“Joan.”
“Yes, father,” came in smothered tones.
“If I were called away to the land of my hopes, would you come after me, darling?”