"Then my father turned to me with those two words—'And Dolly?' And they were all waiting for my answer. And it came over me, in a moment, how ready father was to make the peace, even if it cost him something, and how one word from me might hinder the peace-making."
"'I think it would be worth more than a thousand pounds to end a quarrel between such old old friends,' I found myself saying."
"Father put his arm round me, and gave me a kiss."
"'Thanks, Dolly, and thanks to you all,' he said. 'I'll see about it at once. If my letter is met as I hope it will be, we'll see about getting Tracy and his daughter down here for a change.'"
"Should I like that?"
"I have written all this down, while it is fresh in my mind, because I want to remember how it came about, and how nobly my father has acted. But—to have Colonel and Miss Tracy down at Woodlands—"
"What does it matter about my liking? There's no surer sign of a spoilt child than always thinking whether one 'likes' or 'dislikes' what is going to happen. I have only woke up to that fact lately. And I do think it is time I should buckle to, and try to be different,—try to think more of other people's likings, and less of my own. It's plain enough, one can't always have one's own way in life."
[CHAPTER XVII]
A FRIEND IN NEED