Force suddenly lowered his eyes. "I'd ask you to come and see Kathleen, Bingle, but—but we're trying to break the child of her homesickness, of her longing to see you. Time, of course, will do it. You will understand, of course, that it is better for her—and for all of us—if she doesn't see you."
Mr. Bingle's face shone. "She—she still loves me, then?" he cried softly.
Force compressed his lips, and then admitted: "Yes, Bingle, old fellow, she DOES love you. And, hang it all, why shouldn't she? I—I want her to love me and not you. I can't look at you without envy in my soul—eating my soul, do you understand?—and I could almost hate you for the start you got of me in those long years with her. Oh, don't laugh at me, Bingle. Don't stand there grinning like a hyena. I suppose it will please you to hear that the poor child cries nearly every night of her life because she—she misses you. I—"
"You can bet it DOES please me," shouted Mr. Bingle.
"Wait, Bingle! Don't go. What am I to do? How am I going to put sunshine back into that little girl's face? Lord, man, I—I can't stand it much longer."
Mr. Bingle pondered. Then he laid his hat upon the table and took a notebook and pencil from his pocket. While he scribbled, Force looked on in perplexity.
"There!" said Mr. Bingle, tearing out the sheet and handing it to the president of the bank. "You may read it, Mr. Force. Give it to her, and see if she doesn't brighten up a bit."
Force read the note. He read it aloud, as if that was the only way to get the full meaning of it.
"'Dear Kathleen: Your old daddy loves you. You must always love him, and you must make your new daddy fetch you to see him some day. Come and see Freddie and all the other kiddies. They will be so delighted to see you, for they all love you. And if your new daddy will fetch you to see your old daddy once in a while, I am sure you will come to love your new daddy as much, if not more than you love your old
"DADDY BINGLE.'"