Again the rich man chuckled, drawing the child closely and looking into her eyes, and then saying solemnly:
“Do you want to leave your father all alone, without any one to love him?”
How many times in the future did the girl remember these words! How many tears had she shed over the remembrance of the loving embrace he had given her when he told her that she could not give away his baby, that she did not belong to herself and was his own sweet child!
Annie Benson leaned confidently against her father’s breast.
“I’m so glad that you want me, father,” sighed she. “I love you very much indeed, and I’ll tell Tom that I can’t marry him.”
With two coins in her hand and tender kisses upon her lips, the girl scampered out to join the waiting youngster upon the porch.
“Can’t marry you, Tom,” she shouted, “for father says I belong to him and have no right to give myself away.”
“Oh, pshaw, why did you tell him yet? Of course we are too little. Did he laugh?”
“Not only did he laugh,” replied Annie, “but he shouted.”
“Mean of him,” muttered the lad, tears rising in his eyes. “I suppose he thinks because I’m but eight years old that I never will be a man, but, never mind, I’ll show him.”