"Why on earth didn't you say so in the first place?" demanded Carol.
"What difference does that make?"
"It makes all the difference in the world! Ah! A millionaire's son." She looked at Lark with keen speculative eyes. "Good-looking, I suppose, young, of course, and impressionable. A millionaire's son."
"But I have to go to Fort Madison. I am on the program to-night. There's the puzzle."
"Oh, father, you can leave him to us," volunteered Lark.
"I'm afraid you mightn't carry it off well. You're so likely to run by fits and jumps, you know. I should hate it if things went badly."
"Oh, father, things couldn't go badly," protested Carol. "We'll be lovely, just lovely. A millionaire's son! Oh, yes, daddy, you can trust him to us all right."
At last he caught the drift of their enthusiasm. "Ah! I see! That fatal charm. You're sure you'll treat him nicely?"
"Oh, yes, father, so sure. A millionaire's son. We've never even seen one yet."
"Now look here, girls, fix the house up and carry it off the best you can. I have a lot of old friends in Cleveland, and I want them to think I've got the dandiest little family on earth."