"But oh! there's such a lot of spade work to be done," continued Dorothy. "I shall begin with his boots."
"His boots!"
"They're so dreadful, mother. They're all built up in front as if they were made to kick with, and when I marry him, if there's any kicking to be done, I'm going to do it."
"Of course you realise, dear, that he's much older than you," said Mrs. West hesitatingly.
"He's a perfect baby-in-arms compared with me," she smiled at her mother, a quaint confident little smile.
"But you're sure that—that——" Mrs. West hesitated.
Dorothy nodded her head violently.
"When——" began Mrs. West.
"It—it was when he disappeared," she said with averted face. "I—I seemed to miss him so much. Oh! but mother," she cried, clasping her mother's knee, "he's so funny, and really he wants someone to look after him. You see," she continued slowly, gazing away from her mother, "it's always difficult to—— What made you love—care for father?" she corrected.
"He was your father, dear."