He watched her closely. "And you don't think that I—that I am no longer capable of managing my affairs?"
She laughed gayly. "What a silly question—you capable—you, father, the best brain—the best business executive in Millsburgh. You know that is what everybody says of you. You are just tired, and need a good rest, that is all."
The man's drooping shoulders lifted and his face brightened as he said, slowly, "I guess perhaps you are right, daughter."
"I am sure of it," she returned, eagerly. Then she added brightly, as if prompted by a sudden inspiration, "I'll tell you what you do—ask the Interpreter."
"Ask the Interpreter!"
She nodded, smiling as if she had put a puzzling conundrum to him.
"You mean for me to ask that paralyzed old basket maker's advice? You mean, ask him if I should retire from business?"
Again she nodded with a little laugh; but under her laughter there was a note of earnestness.
"And don't you know," he said, "that it is the Interpreter who is at the bottom of all my trouble?"
"Father!"