"Don't you think it would be best for me to go back, daddy?" Millie questioned, interrupting his random musings. "Maybe mother could manage here, with one or two boarders and the money I shall send her. And there will be your army pension. Mr. Thomas is coming to pay us a visit to-morrow, you know, and I'll ask him at once for my old position. I know it will be all right, for he's always been perfectly splendid! He told me the position would always be open to me. You have no idea how kind and considerate he is, daddy! Then maybe next summer—"
"Next summer we're all goin' to be rich!" said her odd foster-father, unexpectedly. "Yes, sir, meanin' you an' mother, Millie girl, next summer we're goin' to be awful rich. Leastways, you an' mother is. Bein' rich wouldn't mean nothin' to me—I'm above it!"
"Why, daddy!" Millie exclaimed, staring at him. "How—What do you mean, daddy?"
Slumped away down in his chair, Bill's eyes were now all but closed tight and he was grinning.
"Nothin' particular," he answered, softly. "'Cept that maybe Bill Jones ain't called Lightnin' for nothin'."
"Bill," said his wife, "this ain't no time for to be smart! If you have anything to say, I wish to goodness you'd say it!"
Bill half opened his eyes and glanced at her. "Millie ain't goin' back to that tailor-made lawyer's office," he said.
"Daddy, please!" said Millie, flushing.
"You mustn't make fun of Mr. Thomas when—"
"All right, Millie," he stopped her, resting his thin hand on her brown hair for an instant. "I wouldn't say nothin' as would hurt you. But you won't have to go back, my dear—not unless you really want to leave us. I got an idea, mother—that's why I was late gettin' home. Ideas take time, 'specially when they're good ones! I got a good one what'll fix this whole business!"