"Next; never think that you're to stay over there two weeks. Never use the words at all. Just think each day, that you're merely staying that one night, and that you're just staying for fun. See?"
"Yes; I'll promise, but it won't be easy."
"Make it easy then. I'll help you. And third, don't feel sorry for yourself."
"Oh, Father, I do!"
"Well, don't! If you want to feel sorry for somebody, choose some one else, a poor Hottentot, or a lame kangaroo, or even your old father. But, mind, it's a rule, you're not to feel sorry for Marjorie Maynard."
"That's a funny rule. But I'll try to mind it."
"That's my own dear daughter. Now, to begin. As you're to stay with Delight to-night, we're sending over your night things. Go to bed early and sleep well, so you can wake bright and fresh and have fun playing all day to-morrow."
All this sounded so gay and pleasant that Marjorie was really very much cheered up, and replied gaily:
"All right, Daddy; I'll do just as you say. And will you call me up to-morrow morning before you go to New York?"
"Yes, of course I will. Now, good-night,—just the same as a good-night at home."