Paula raised her head. "If you order me to go, I'll go, for I must obey you, and I know they are waiting for us. But if you will permit me to stay"—and she put emphasis on the word permit in her peculiarly irresistible manner—"I would be a whole lot happier here than in 'Las Lilas.'"
"Stay then," said my father, as he added with a smile, "You certainly are a little despot, for you seem to twist me to your will in everything."
Paula laughed at this, as happy as if she had received the most valuable of gifts, as she kissed him.
"Oh, yes; kisses are all very well," said father, pretending to be angry, "but what will the grandparents say?"
"You will tell them"—but the rest of the sentence I could not hear, as she bent close to my father's ear.
"Where's Paula?" everybody cried, as we went through the door downstairs.
"Look," said my father, pointing to the upper window. There was Paula, with a radiant face, waving her handkerchief in good-bye to all of us!
"Come, come, hurry up; stop your fooling!" cried Louis.
"I'm staying here."
"How is that?"