"As if an own father could not be that! Laverne, my darling, my own little girl!"
If he had been poor he would have thought any child a great burden. He was not the sort of man to make sacrifices for any one. They would have irked him terribly. But in prosperity he was very indulgent. There are many such people. Jason Chadsey would have shared his last dollar, his last crust, ungrudgingly.
They began to set the matter before her in a reasonable, practical light. Henceforward she would be a burden on Mr. Chadsey, who had already done so much for her. She would have in her parents' care accomplishments, travel, society, a lovely home, pleasures of all kinds, and now she was old enough to enjoy them. And they wanted her. Her father had the lawful right, would have until she was of age.
"I must go home," she said at length. "It is so strange. I must think it over. And if Uncle Jason wants me——"
"And we want you." Agnes Westbury gave her a tender embrace, as she wiped the tears from her own eyes. They could not be allowed to run riot down the cheeks as Laverne's were doing.
She rose unsteadily.
"Have you no word for me, your father?"
She went to the outstretched arms and hid her face on his breast. She could not love all at once. She could not break Uncle Jason's heart.
"I know it must seem strange, but I think Mr. Chadsey will recognize my right in you. We must see him——"
"To-morrow, then," she interrupted. "Let me have this afternoon to consider, to talk."