“What truism, sayst thou?”
“That swinish Fortune will love the lusty bully that drains her, though the bulk of the litter starve.”
He spat savagely on the ground.
“I do not comprehend,” he muttered again.
“Well,” I said, “at least let us hope there is an especial Paradise reserved for the undeveloped maggots.”
He rose and stood brooding a moment; then looked away from me and cried morosely, “Get up!”
To my astonishment, from a sort of cradle of roots to the farther side of the tree a young girl scrambled to her feet at his call, and stood yawning and eyeing me loweringly.
“Your daughter?” said I.
“Yes,” he answered, “she is my daughter. What then?”
I jumped up in some suppressed excitement.