"But I ought to have an extra year for special study somewhere after I finish college. Do you suppose we could manage it, father?"
Mr. Artman looked up from his mail absently. "Yes, dear, what? I am afraid I was not paying attention." His eyes wandered back to the letter in his hand.
Rosalie promptly deposited herself on his knee, pulling his arms around her.
"Doris has just decided that I would be a lovely athletic director for girls if I could have a year of special training after college. Prospects, please?"
"Maybe we could arrange it—I hope so. It would be fine. But—things might interfere."
"Always granted, of course, dearest, but am I justified in saying it is my present plan if things do not interfere?"
"Yes, to be sure, but—remember—plans have a way of going astray, dear."
"Why, father, that does not sound like you."
"I know, forgive me, but I do not feel like myself to-day. Look ahead to it, Rosalie, by all means, and count on it, and if it is right for you, it will come."
"That is the way for a preacher to talk," said Rosalie. "Then it is all settled, isn't it?"