"Three years and four months. I couldn't get word very well, and thought I'd rather come on. You see, my horse gave out, and I've had a ten-mile walk. And—the baby?"
"Oh, she's a big girl. She was sitting here——"
"Not that child!" in surprise.
"Daffodil," called her mother.
The child came shyly, hesitatingly.
"Dilly, it's father. We've talked of him so much, you know. And you have watched out for him many a time."
Somehow he didn't seem the father of her imagination. He took her in his arms, and dragged her over in his lap.
"Oh, I forgot you could grow," in a tone broken with emotion. "But her blue eyes, and her yellow hair. Oh, my little darling! We shall have to get acquainted over again;" and he kissed the reluctant lips. "Oh, it is all like a dream! Many and many a time I thought I should never see you again;" and he wiped the tears from his eyes.
"If you are glad, what makes you cry?" asked the child, in a curious sort of way.
Barbe put her arms around Dilly. Of course, no child could understand.