He would have walked away, but Shirley stayed him.
“I want to have a private talk with you, Dad,” she said.
Mr. Willing looked at his daughter in surprise.
“Well, well,” he said finally, “you are getting to be quite a young lady, aren’t you? Want to have a private talk with me, eh? All right. Come into my sitting room.”
He led the way, and Shirley followed, after motioning to Mabel to await her return.
Seated in his big arm chair, with Shirley on the floor at his feet, Mr. Willing drew a cigar from his pocket, lighted it, fell back in the chair and puffed luxuriously.
“Now fire away,” he said.
“Dad,” said Shirley, coming to the point at once, “is it true that you have lost all your money?”
Mr. Willing came out of his chair with a bound.
“Who has been putting such notions into my little girl’s head?” he asked, but his voice was slightly strained.