Tillie reentered the room with the precious bits of linen tenderly wrapped up in tissue paper. Her pallor was now gone, and her eyes were red with crying. She came to her father's side and handed him the soft bundle.
"These here caps," he said to her, "mom can use fur night-caps, or what. When you buy somepin unknownst to me, Tillie, I ain't leavin' you KEEP it! Now go 'long back to your dishes. And next Saturday, when I come, I want to find them clo'es done, do you understand?"
Tillie's eyes followed the parcel as it was crushed ruthlessly into her father's coat pocket—and she did not heed his question.
"Do you hear me, Tillie?" he demanded.
"Yes," she answered, looking up at him with brimming eyes.
His sister, watching them from across the room, saw in the man's face the working of conflicting feelings—his stern displeasure warring with his affection. Mrs. Wackernagel had realized, ever since Tillie had come to live with her, that "Jake's" brief weekly visits to his daughter were a pleasure to the hard man; and not only because of the two dollars which he came to collect. Just now, she could see how he hated to part from her in anger. Justice having been meted out in the form of the crushed and forfeited caps in his pocket, he would fain take leave of the girl with some expression of his kindlier feelings toward her.
"Now are you behavin' yourself—like a good girl—till I come again?" he asked, laying his hand upon her shoulder.
"Yes," she said dully.
"Then give me good-b'y." She held up her face and submitted to his kiss.
"Good-by, Em. And mind you stop spoilin' my girl fur me!"