I finished the parlor, and shut down the windows. Then I went to papa’s study, took the ashes softly out of the grate, and laid another fire, in case the evening should be cool, picked up papers and magazines, and dusted with the very lightest of touches. It was my part of the work to look after the study. I was so glad to be able to suit papa!
Just then the door opened. It was papa himself, fresh from a walk. I think him ever and ever so handsome, though sometimes I wish he was not quite so thin. He is rather tall, has a fine chest and shoulders; but it is his sweet, dear old face that I like so much. It’s a little wrinkled, to be sure, and may be his mouth is a trifle wide. I never considered it any defect, however, for he shuts his lips together with such a cordial smile! He has lovely deep-gray eyes, and his hair, which was once a bright brown, begins to be toned with silvery threads, as well as his soft brown beard, which he wears full, except a mustache.
“O, papa!” I cried, clasping my arms around his neck, “are you very sorry?”
“Sorry for what, my daughter?” And he looked a good deal surprised.
“That we haven’t a boy. There are so many of us girls!”
“My dear, I have always had a great fancy for little girls, as you know. And we take whatever God sends. She is very pretty.”
“O, you dear, blessed papa!”
“You will have to be the mother now, for a little while, Rose. You must try to manage the children nicely.”
“Indeed, I will do my best. Papa, do you not believe that I could go in and see her? Aunt Letty Perkins is there.”
“O, how could Mrs. Whitcomb! Yes; come along, child.”