"Tall and thin and deadly pale. A kind of French Canadian, I believe. You see he was so enthusiastic and so sure, and so was papa, but something went wrong. Oh, I do hope we will not lose our money! To be ill and wretched and homeless, for no doubt you will marry again, and——"
Floyd laughs heartily. "You shall not be homeless," he says, "and I will even promise to keep you in books. There, don't distress yourself." How often he has to administer comfort!
His lunch is the matter of a few moments, then he hurries up-stairs. The tower door is open, and there is no one to be seen. He keeps on and on until he catches a flutter of a white dress. Cecil is running around the observatory, and his heart beats as he glances at the dazzling little sprite, with her sparkling eyes and her hair a golden mist about her face. He could watch forever, but it is a daring pastime.
"Cecil," he calls softly.
"O papa!" She stops and flushes a deeper pink, then suddenly remembers in the midst of her delight, and there is a tacit reproach in her eyes.
"Have you a kiss for papa?"
She considers gravely, then with a quick bound she is in his arms.
"What are you doing up here, alone?"
"I ran away, a little. I am close up to the birdies, papa, see!"
A flock of swallows were wheeling and circling around. She claps her hands in glee. "Couldn't you open the windows?"