“Yes, Uncle David.”
“Then let’s have no more of this nonsense of earning your own living.”
“Are you really displeased, Uncle David?”
“I should be if I thought you were serious,—but it’s bedtime. If you’re going to get your beauty sleep, my dear, you ought to begin on it immediately.”
Eleanor rose obediently, her brow clouded a little, and her head held high. David watched the color coming and going in the sweet face and the 217 tender breast rising and falling with her quickening breath.
“I thought perhaps you would understand,” she said. “Good night.”
She had always kissed him “good night” until this visit, and he had refrained from commenting on the omission before, but now he put out his hand to her.
“Haven’t you forgotten something?” he asked. “There is only one way for a daughter to say good night to her parent.”
She put up her face, and as she did so he caught the glint of tears in her eyes.
“Why, Eleanor, dear,” he said, “did you care?” And he kissed her. Then his lips sought hers again.