Mabel needed no directions as to where to find her father and, running into the house, she ran up the stairs and into the front bedroom.
She opened the door with a quick jerk, and then paused. The quiet figure in the bed caught her eye. It was her father, and he was sleeping.
Mabel tip-toed toward the bed, and bent over. Her father’s face was pale, but he seemed to be resting easily.
“Poor father,” said Mabel. “I won’t disturb him now.”
She turned and made her way toward the door. As she laid her hand upon the knob and was about to turn it, a voice called:
“Mabel!”
The girl turned. Her father was sitting up.
“Mabel!” he called again. Gladly the girl ran to him and was at once clasped in his arms.
“I didn’t want to wake you,” she said.
“You know very well,” was the reply, “that, after such a long absence, your very presence was bound to awaken me. I was asleep, but I must have felt that you had returned.”