She looked up and smiled—a pleading, wan little smile. “I didn't mean to give way to it, popsy dear. I don't intend to do anything to make you angry or sorry. I have tried to be a good girl. I am a good girl. But it breaks my heart when you don't trust me.”
“They were courting you,” he stammered. “Them shore dudes was hanging around you. I ain't doubting you, Polly. But you 'ain't got no mother. I was afraid. I know I've been a fool about it. But I was afraid!” Tears sprinkled his bronzed cheeks. “I haven't been much of a father because I've had to go sailing and earn money. But I thought I'd take you away till-till I could sort of plan on something.”
She gazed at him, softening visibly.
“Oh, Polly,” he said, his voice breaking, “you don't know how pretty you are-you don't know how afraid I am!”
“But you can trust me, father,” she promised, after a pause, with simple dignity. “I know I am only a country girl, not wise, perhaps, but I know what is right and what is wrong. Can't you understand how terribly you have hurt my pride and my self-respect by forcing me to come and be penned up here as if I were a shameless girl who could not take care of herself?”
“I reckon I have done wrong, Polly. But I don't know much-not about women folk. I was trying to do right-because you're all I have in this world.”
“I hope you will think it all over,” she advised, earnestly. “You will understand after a time, father, I'm sure. Then you will let me go back and you will trust me-as your own daughter should be trusted. That's the right way to make girls good-let them know that they can be trusted.”
“You are probably right,” he admitted. “I will think it all over. As soon as we get in and anchored I'll sit down and give it a good overhauling in my mind. Maybe-”
She took advantage of his pause. “We are going into a harbor, are we, father?”
“Yes. Right ahead of us.”