"When was this party given, Sally?"
"The party was given next Monday," replied Sally in utter defiance of all natural rules and laws, "next Monday as ever was."
"It must be done, I suppose," said Seth, with a sigh of comical resignation, "or Pharaoh'll never come to you again."
"Never," declared Sally.
"Then there's no help for it. You can ask all the little ragamuffins in the neighbourhood to the christening."
"O, Daddy, you are good--you are good!" and out of the depth of her gratitude Sally put her arms round Seth's neck, and kissed him half-a-dozen times without meeting with any opposition.
In good truth Seth was enjoying this new state of things, and would not have liked, now that he had tasted the sweets of companionship, to be compelled to relapse into his old ways. There was nothing to regret in his past life; he had never loved, and therefore had no melancholy remembrance to make the present bitter. He had contracted neither violent friendships nor violent enmities. He had never been wronged--which frequently leads a generous nature to misanthropy; he had never wronged--which often leads to meanness many a nature capable of higher development. Thus, having escaped rocks upon which other men are wrecked, or soured, or embittered for life, he found himself a middle-aged man, the tenderest chords of whose nature had never till now been touched.
Sally's kisses thrilled him tenderly. He did not return them, nor did he exhibit any feeling, but every pulse of his being responded to this mark of affection.
"Daddy," said Sally.
"Yes, Sal."