“I wouldn’t like it at all, dad,” she told Amos laughingly. “Washington is a dead old place beside Hardiston.”
“I’m thinking of taking you,” Amos said, watching her with something like sorrow in his eyes.
“I haven’t any clothes,” she protested. “I’m not ready, at all. I’d rather not go, dad.”
“I’d rather you would,” he repeated gently.
She pouted. “Why? You’re always away. I’d never see you. I’d have nothing to do at all. I—”
“I’d rather not leave you and Wint alone here. Wouldn’t be just the thing,” her father insisted gently.
She laughed. “You funny old daddy. We’d have Maria for chaperon.”
“Wouldn’t be just the thing,” Amos said again.
“I’m not going to eat Wint,” she protested, half angry. “We get along beautifully.”
“Guess you’d better go along with me,” Amos told her.