One afternoon when Gale was making her visit alone Doctor Elton called her into the office before she saw Phyllis.
“So will you tell her, Gale?” the Doctor asked in conclusion. “I can’t just rush in and say ‘I’m your father.’ It would be too dramatic and much too abrupt. Probably she won’t believe it at first. I can hardly realize myself that I have a grown daughter.”
At his frank smile Gale felt aglow with friendliness. The more she saw of Doctor Elton the more she liked him. She could see now where Phyllis got her capacity for making friends, her radiating smile and her sense of humor. Doctor Elton had spent all his time here in Weston, ever since the discovery of his daughter. But as yet Phyllis was ignorant of whom he really was.
“I’ll tell her,” Gale agreed. “But you had better be close at hand because I’m sure she will want to talk to you right away.”
“I’ll stand outside the door,” he promised. He straightened his tie nervously. “Do you think she will like her father?” he asked with a smile.
“From what I have seen of you two together,” Gale said, “she already likes you a lot.”
Phyllis was in a chair by the window. The sun was streaming in. There were magazines and newspapers in profusion, but Phyllis was busy with none of these. She had a sketching board propped up before her and with charcoal was rapidly transferring the view from the window to the paper. The low buildings and the farther hillside upon which spring was already awakening trees and plants were pictured with exactly the right delicate shadows and lights.
Gale opened the door and closed it softly behind her. Phyllis did not hear her at all, so engrossed was she in the work at hand. Gale tiptoed across the room to look over Phyllis’ shoulder.
“Splendid!” she commented gayly.
Phyllis was so startled the pencil dropped from her hand and rolled on the floor. Gale rescued it.