Her father grinned with his whole mouthful of teeth, and looked at her with amusement—almost sympathetic roguery, which she evidently appreciated, for she laughed heartily.
Meantime I was feeling very uncomfortable. Something within told me I had no right to overhear remarks about myself; and, in my slow way, I was meditating how to get out of the scrape.
‘What a nice-looking girl that is!’ said Clara, without lifting her eyes from her plate—‘I mean for a Swiss, you know. But I do like the dress. I wish you would buy me a collar and chains like those, papa.’
‘Always wanting to get something out of your old dad, Clara! Just like the rest of you, always wanting something—eh?’
‘No, papa; it’s you gentlemen always want to keep everything for yourselves. We only want you to share.’
‘Well, you shall have the collar, and I shall have the chains.—Will that do?’
‘Yes, thank you, papa,’ she returned, nodding her head. ‘Meantime, hadn’t you better give me your diamond pin? It would fasten this troublesome collar so nicely!’
‘There, child!’ he answered, proceeding to take it from his shirt. ‘Anything else?’
‘No, no, papa dear. I didn’t want it. I expected you, like everybody else, to decline carrying out your professed principles.’
‘What a nice girl she is,’ I thought, ‘after all!’