"When are you going to let me put you into a picture?" he asked.
Christina's cheeks became crimson, but she did not speak.
"She says she couldn't have you stare at her, dad. Tina is very shy, like my black rabbit Loo was. Loo would shake all over when I took hold of her, and she never left off shaking till she died. Put your finger in, Tina, and lick it. I've got no spoon. It's just scrumptious!"
"You'll find a spoon in my cupboard," said Dawn's father.
And Christina the next minute was sitting down on a rug with her small friend, sharing his delicious compound.
"So your father is coming back," Dawn's father, Mr. O'Flagherty, said after a pause.
"And Tina doesn't know what he's like, but we hope he'll be something like you," said Dawn eagerly.
His father shook his head and went on painting.
"I expect he'll be nice," said Christina loyally.
"Fathers are always nice, aren't they, Jack-in-the-box? It's their children who are the tyrants and taskmasters; the poor fathers have a sad time of it, but they never complain; not even when a year's work is spoilt in one moment by a meddlesome imp applying the wrong varnish!"