"Nonsense, nonsense," her father answered, and hugged her closely in his arms.
"Mind my hair," said Flossie sharply, "I'm very tired and I'm going to bed. I hope you won't be naughty any more. Promise!" He nodded with a queer look in his eyes. "You look tired, too! come up early. To-morrow we'll be just the same as ever, won't we? You shall be very nice, and I shall forgive you, because, after all, I do love you, don't I?"
"That's right," he said gravely.
"Yes, but you're not right. I've never seen you quite like this. I'm sure there's something. Where's my book?"
He picked up the story-book and she tucked it under her arm, smothering a yawn that suffused her blue eyes and showed all her pretty teeth.
"Good-night; be good," she said, and kissed him.
"Yes! But you've forgotten your hymn."
The child looked at him searchingly. His manner puzzled her more and more. His voice seemed hardly natural; he was grave, intensely grave, yet trying to cloak his seriousness by speaking in ordinary tones.
"Must I, to-night?" she asked, half closing her sleepy eyes.
"Yes, dearest, please, to-night."