"I didn't see much when I saw him," said her father.
Jane was hugely amused. Her father watched her laughter—the dazzling display of fine teeth—with delighted eyes. "You've got mighty good teeth, Jenny," observed he. "Take care of 'em. You'll never know what misery is till you've got no teeth—or next to none." He looked disgustedly into his bowl. "Crackers and milk!" grunted he. "No teeth and no digestion. The only pleasure a man of my age can have left is eating, and I'm cheated out of that."
"So, you wouldn't approve of my marrying Davy?" said the girl.
Her father grunted—chuckled. "I didn't say that. Does he want to marry you?"
"I didn't say that," retorted Jane. "He's an unattached young man—and I, being merely a woman, have got to look out for a husband."
Martin looked gloomy. "There's no hurry," said he. "You've been away six years. Seems to me you might stay at home a while."
"Oh, I'd bring him here, popsy I've no intention of leaving you. You were in an awful state, when I came home. That mustn't ever happen again. And as you won't live with Martha and Hugo—why, I've got to be the victim."
"Yes—it's up to you, Miss, to take care of me in my declining years.... You can marry Davy—if you want to. Davy—or anybody. I trust to your good sense."
"If I don't like him, I can get rid of him," said the girl.
Her father smiled indulgently. "That's A LEETLE too up-to-date for an old man like me," observed he. "The world's moving fast nowadays. It's got a long ways from where it was when your ma and I were young."