"I used to in my young days, and must be content. I am glad you sleep well. You have other wishes."
"Yes," said Nansie, calmly.
"You have a fine trick of composure, Nansie. What stirs within does not always find outward expression."
"I take after you, father," said Nansie, in an affectionate tone. "I have you to thank for all that is good in me."
"It is a pleasant hearing, but it cuts both ways. Do not your other wishes trouble you?"
"A little; but everything will come right."
"A comfortable philosophy, my dear child; but womanly."
"It was mother's," said Nansie. "I caught it from her."
"I know; and I could never make the dear mother understand that it was inadequate for the practical purposes of life. Eventually we may be satisfied that everything will come right, but before the end is reached there are many turnings. The mischief of it is"--and there was now in his face as he turned it more fully towards her an expression both whimsical and sad--"that we carpet the turning we wish to take with flowers of fancy which, as we proceed, fade utterly away. That is a human experience."
"I am human," said Nansie, and she pressed her young face to his.