At last the busy man became conscious of the child's presence, and, turning, looked down into the serious eyes.
"I'm here wid a boomp," said Peter. Then after receiving the consolation of a hug and kiss he returned contentedly to his block house.
Emilie saw her father look after the child with a smile sad and tender. Her heart beat faster as she lay in her corner. Her father was lonely and hard worked, with no one to take pity on him. A veil seemed to drop from her eyes, even while they grew wet.
"I don't believe I'm too old to change, even if I am going on nine," thought Emilie. At that minute the block house fell in ruins, and Peter, self-controlled though he was, looked toward the desk and began to whimper.
"Peter—Baby," cried Emilie softly, leaning forward and holding out the picture of a horse in her book.
Her father had turned with an involuntary sigh, and seeing Peter trot toward the sofa and Emilie receive him with open arms, went back to his papers with a relief that his little daughter saw. Her breath came fast and she hugged the baby. Something caught in her throat.
"Oh, papa, you don't know how many, many times I'm going to do it," she said in the silence of her own full heart.
And Emilie kept that unspoken promise.