"Why, papa, dear," she answered, "it is only my way of showing my appreciation of his former kindness."
"My little chit," he returned, as she put one arm around his neck, "you exhibited more than simple appreciation in your looks, when you greeted Mr. Winthrope."
"Now, do not scold me, dear papa; if you do, I will cry," said Edith, fumbling for a handkerchief somewhere about her garments, with which to stay the flow of tears already glistening in her eyes.
"Ha, ha, Edith," replied her father; "I am not chiding you; I know my little girl would do nothing unbecoming."
"Papa, is it unbecoming to be civil to a young man like him?" she asked.
"Not in the least, my child; he is a fine young man—" and Edith hugged her father more closely—"and—ah, Edith, you make me wonder, sometimes, at your way of looking at other young men of our class."
"None of them is as good as he, I know," she said, with such sincerity, and so pensively, that her father was really disturbed.
"I know he is a good young man; but, Edith, it would be very naughty for you to encourage him," he said advisedly.
"Then, you do not like him, papa? I know you do not. Wish I had never requested you to advance him to this place, then—then—I would not have seen him again."
"Why, Edith, my child! what are you saying? If you persist in your talking that way, it will be necessary for me to dismiss him at once, and have no more of this benefactor business on my hands," replied her father, sternly; at the same time winking at Star, belying the asperity of his voice.