"It will be so much better in case I am caught in another fire, papa. Things that are burnt up are gone forever, and as I seem to be a rather unlucky person, this plainer set is much better—and besides I like it, papa."
In the end it seemed to Martine that Mr. Stratford was rather pleased by her choice, for when the matter was decided he patted her hand gently as he slipped it within his arm, saying,—
"After all, daughter, you are getting to be a very sensible girl. I have noticed a great change within the past year."
"Oh, thank you, papa. Do you really think I've improved? Then it's partly on account of the company I have kept. I am sure of that."
"I am pleased that you are on the right track, and when I am far from you, as I shall be now for some time, it will be a great satisfaction to think that you are doing your best."
A few days later Martine and Lucian, with their mother, stood on the dock watching the receding ocean-liner that was carrying Mr. Stratford to England. There was a great lump in Martine's throat as she wiped away her tears with the handkerchief that a moment before she had been waving frantically at her father.
"Goose, goose!" whispered Lucian. "You are too big a girl to cry."
"Oh, I hate saying good-bye," murmured Martine.
"Why, we've hardly been together—all four of us—for years."
"That's just it! It's been so pleasant lately—and now to have father in South America!—it's just dreadful."