"If you say so, my dear," he humbly assented, "I can't object."
"I think he would like it," she mused; "he is fond of nice things and nice places."
"Tell me, Lizzie--I have never asked, but I may, because I am an old man--is Some One your sweetheart?"
"Couldn't you guess that, daddy?"
"Yes, my dear, but I wanted to be certain. Do you love him?"
Shyly, tenderly, archly she looked at the old man, and answered him with her eyes. They fell into silence for a little while after that, the mind of each being occupied.
"You don't remember your father, Lizzy?"
"No."
"Your mother?"
"No, I never saw her."