"Of course I was dreaming, Dad," she declared gaily, making an ineffectual grab at the hands he held behind him.
"No fair using force," he warned, dexterously eluding her. "This is a guessing contest. Now which hand will you choose?"
"Both hands, you mean thing!" laughed Jane. "I know what you have in one of them. It's a letter. Maybe two. Now stand and deliver."
"Here you are."
Obligingly obeying the imperative command, Mr. Allen handed Jane two letters.
"Oh, joy! Here you are!"
Jane enveloped her father in a bear-like hug, planting a resounding kiss on his sun-burnt cheek.
"Having played postman, I suppose my next duty is to take myself off and leave my girl to her letters," was his affectionately smiling comment.
"Not a bit of it, Dad. I'm dying to read these letters. They're from Judith Stearns and Adrienne Dupree. But even they must wait a little. I want to talk to you, my ownest Dad. Come and sit beside me on that bench."
Slipping her arm within her father's, Jane gently towed him to a quaint rustic seat under a magnificent, wide-spreading oak.