“No.”
“Then what is the matter?”
“Oh, Della, I’m crying because I don’t love any one.”
“Mercy, Bessie, you don’t love me?”
“No. If any one else was as good to me as you are, I’d love them just as much!”
“You certainly are a queer child. You mean to say you don’t love mamma?”
“If any one else did all she does for me, I’d care just as much for them.”
I sobbed on and poor Della in despair said: “And you don’t love papa?”
“Oh, yes, yes,” I cried with the greatest relief; “I do love papa.”