“What is it now, pet?” he said, laying down his pen.
“Father, dear; I wish to visit aunt Lora in San Francisco; can I go?” looking him in the eyes.
“Why, yes; I suppose so. You may go next week if you can get ready.”
“Not next week, papa. I want to go to-night; on the Central Pneumatic.”
“What?” he exclaimed. “To-night! And why this haste, my daughter?” and he gave her a deep, searching look.
“Father, have I been a good, true daughter to you?” and her deep blue eyes looked straight into his.
“In truth you have, my daughter,” and he kissed her cheek, so close to his lips.
“Then, my dear father, I beg of you one great kindness, one great confidence in my sincerity, honesty, and truthfulness. Grant me permission to go West to-night with Marie Colchester; grant me a short time to remain, give me a thousand dollars, and ask me not to tell you the reasons for my strange request and actions.”
“My daughter, this is very strange!” and he arose from his chair, took her hands in his, and drew her toward him. His eyes looked into hers with an earnest expression. Steadily, and with an honest eye, she returned his gaze.