She had entirely forgotten Doris, and that young person had quite evidently escaped from durance vile into the safe shelter of her father's arms. After all, it was a small matter, Elizabeth assured herself; and Sam disliked tears and unpleasantness during the hours, few and short, he could spend with the children. Promising herself that she would talk seriously with the small offender at bed-time she ran down stairs to receive her own greeting, none the less prized and longed for after ten years of married life.
Her husband's eyes met her own with a smile. "Betty—dear!" he whispered, passing his arm about her shoulders. Doris from the other side peered around at her mother, her bright eyes full of laughing triumph.
"If I'm not very much mistaken," her father said mysteriously, "there's something in my coat pocket for good children."
Doris instantly joined her brother in a race for the highly desirable pocket, and the two were presently engaged in an amicable division of the spoils.
"You mustn't eat any candy till after dinner, children," warned Elizabeth.
Doris had already set her sharp white teeth in a bonbon, when her father's hand interposed. "Hold hard, there, youngsters," he said; "you heard the order of the court; no candy till after dinner."
"Just this one, daddy," pouted Doris. "I think I might." She swallowed it quickly and reached for another.
"Not till after dinner, young lady," and the pasteboard box was lifted high out of reach of small exploring fingers.
"Oh, Sam, why will you persist in bringing home candy?" Elizabeth asked, with a sort of tired indulgence in her voice. "You know they oughtn't to have it."
"I forgot, Betty. Please, ma'am, will you 'xcuse me, just this once—if I'll never do it again?"