"No—there's nothing I want, girl," he said, with a little wave of his hand. "Just stand beside me here."
Cherry came close to his chair and laid her hand across her father's shoulders. He put his arm about her and drew her close to him, where he held her for a moment without speaking. Then he raised his face to her and Cherry saw that his eyes were shining in the light from the lamp—there were tears in them.
"What is it, father?" she asked, and placed a hand very tenderly on his forehead.
For answer he drew her down until she was on her knees beside his chair, and then with one arm about her shoulders and one hand upon her cheek he looked into her face.
"Cherry, girl," he said in a whisper that had a touch of great tenderness in it, "you had a good mother."
"Yes," she replied, and tried to smile at him.
"Your father—" he began, and then stopped.
"Yes?"
He bent low above her and kissed her hair. "Your father loves you, girl," he spoke at last, with tears in his voice as he spoke.
"Not more than I love him," Cherry replied, with a brave effort to make her voice cheerful.