"Don't worry, child. You could not really be blamed," he rejoined sadly.
"But that doesn't bring back mother's picture and the other things," murmured the anxious Janice, watching his clouding face.
As always when they were alone, daddy washed the supper dishes and Janice dried them. Daddy with an apron on and his sleeves rolled up, and a paper cap on his head (she made him wear that like a regular "chef"), made a picture that always pleased his daughter.
"I think you would make a very nice cook, Daddy dear? she often told him. "In fact, you seem to fit in almost anywhere. I guess it's because you are always ready to do something."
"Flattery! Flattery!" he returned, pinching her cheek.
"But it is so, you know, Daddy. You always know what to do—and you do it."
"That is what they tell me at the bank," said Mr. Day, with rather a rueful smile. "This Mexican mine business is developing some troubles, and they want me to go down there and straighten them out."
"Oh, Daddy!" she cried breathlessly.
"No," he said, shaking his head. "That is what I tell them. I cannot leave you alone."
"But take me!" she cried, almost dancing up and down.