"It might not be much," she said, "but it's enough so you worry about it. Tell me, Pa, what's vexing you."
After a moment in which both were silent, she spoke again, but with her soft little arms about his neck.
"Was it about Ma, or me you were thinking?" she asked. "You looked so sober, that I know it was about someone that you cared for."
"I was thinking of you both, Sprite," he said, as he drew her closer, "and of the vessel that is almost a week overdue. If she comes in, the venture that I made on her cargo, will bring what some folks would call a small sum of money, but to us, it would be a small fortune."
"A week overdue! I'm not so selfish that I don't give a thought for those on board that have perished if she's lost. That's simply doubled the worry."
A warm tear fell on his rough hand, and he looked up quickly.
"Tut, tut! Little Sprite! Don't cry yet. It may be that she's only delayed, and will sail into port, with all hands on board and her cargo safe. You're too young to worry now. Cheer up! Pa's not really worrying yet, only wondering, little Sprite, wondering."
That would have settled the matter for some children, but Sprite saw more clearly, thought more deeply than does the average child, and she knew that he was trying to cheer and comfort her while at heart he was deeply concerned, for the fate of the vessel for which he had been eagerly waiting.
"But she could come in now and be all right, couldn't she?" Sprite asked. "Or is it so late that you almost know that something has happened to her?"
"No, no, Sprite. It's not too late for her to arrive safe and sound, but as the days pass I catch myself watching a bit closer for her coming. Why did the tears come, Sprite? I never like to have you grieving, dear."