“Oh! are they? That’s where mommy is. Daddy is all I’ve got. I wish you’d come and see daddy sometime. He gets here every night right after six o’clock.”
“I’d love to!” Polly beamed. “Fathers are beautiful, I think. Of course, mothers are—but fathers!” Her curls gave the emphasis.
“I know!” cried little Chris, his eyes ashine. “Daddy’s the dearest that ever was! Why, if anything should happen to daddy—there might, while I’m here and can’t take care of him!—oh, I don’t know what I should do!” Fear crept over the sweet face.
“I wouldn’t worry about it,” counseled Polly cheerily. “Big men can take care of themselves better than little folks like us can.”
“Daddy isn’t very big,” confided Chris in a low tone; “but he’s strong, strong as anything! I guess there couldn’t much hurt him, could there?” he smiled reassuringly.
“No, indeed!” assented Polly.
“He is so strong he brought me ’way up here in his arms,” the lad exulted, “and he wasn’t tired a bit! I wish he could come and stay with me daytimes,” the wistful voice went on, “but he has to sleep then. He watches, you know.”
“And you have to stay alone all night?” Polly’s eyes showed sympathy.
“Oh! daddy doesn’t go away till after I’m asleep,” the lad explained, “and he is home again before I wake up. A nice woman in the next room comes in if I call her. I never did but once, and that was when I fell out of bed. I gave a little cry before I knew anything. It didn’t hurt me a mite, but she was scared, and daddy was, too. He wouldn’t leave me the next night.”