"I don't care. He's treated you like dirt. You know he has."
"I know he's sick and has sent for me. And I know I'm going to him. That's enough for me to know—at present," retorted the man, getting to his feet, and leaving his dinner almost untasted.
Half an hour later he appeared before her, freshly shaved, and in the radiant good humor that seems to follow a bath and fresh garments as a natural consequence. "Come, chicken, give us a kiss," he cried gayly; "and don't sit up for me: I may be late."
"My, but ain't we fixed up!" pouted Helen jealously. "I should think you was going to see your best girl."
"I am," laughed Burke boyishly. "Dad was my best girl—till I got you. Good-bye! I'm off."
"Good-bye." Helen's lips still pouted, and her eyes burned somberly as she sat back in her chair.
Outside the house Burke drew a long breath, and yet a longer one. It seemed as if he could not inhale deeply enough the crisp, bracing air. Then, with an eager stride that would cover the distance in little more than half the usual time, he set off toward Elm Hill. There was only joyous anticipation in his face now. The worry was all gone. After all, had not Brett said that this illness of dad's was nothing serious?
For a week Burke had known that something was wrong—that his father was not at the Works. In vain had he haunted office doors and corridors for a glimpse of a face that never appeared. Then had come the news that John Denby was ill. A paralyzing fear clutched the son's heart.
Was this to be the end, then? Was dad to—die, and never to know, never to read his boy's heart? Was this the end of all hopes of some day seeing the old look of love and pride in his father's eyes? Then it would, indeed, be the end of—everything, if dad died; for what was the use of struggling, of straining every nerve to make good, if dad was not to be there to—know?
It had been at this point that Burke, in spite of his hurt pride, and of his very lively doubts as to the cordiality of his reception, had almost determined to go himself to the old home and demand to see his father. Then, just in time, had come Brett's wonderful message that his father wished to see him, and that he was not, after all, fatally or even seriously ill.