“It does.” He laughed oddly. “It pleases me to find that I’m to have a neighbor who is afflicted with the sort of sickness that has been bothering me for—for a good many years.”
There was a silence, during which Sheila yawned and Dakota stood motionless, looking straight ahead.
“You like your father, I reckon?” came his voice presently, as his gaze went to her again.
“Of course.” She looked up at him in surprise. “Why shouldn’t I like him?”
“Of course you like him. Mostly children like their fathers.”
“Children!” She glared scornfully at him. “I am twenty-two! I told you that before!”
“So you did,” he returned, unruffled. “When is he coming out here?”
“In a month—a month from to-day.” She regarded him with a sudden, new interest. “You are betraying a great deal of curiosity,” she accused. “Why?”
“Why,” he answered slowly, “I reckon that isn’t odd, is it? He’s going to be my neighbor, isn’t he?”
“Oh!” she said with emphasis of mockery which equalled his. “And you are gossiping about your neighbor even before he comes.”