"Well, he'd better begin to stop knocking me around when he's mad, or
I'll run away."
"Especially in the winter, I suppose," sniffed Douglas, "when it would be plain suicide."
"I don't care if it's in a blizzard," insisted Judith. "When I've had enough, I'll go."
Douglas laughed. "Hanged if I don't think you would, too, Jude. You've got the nerve of a wolverine."
"I hope Dad's tooth is better," said Judith, as dim buildings and a lighted window shone though the dusk.
"Are you really afraid of Dad?" asked Douglas suddenly.
"No," replied Judith, thoughtfully, "but sometimes I hate him."
"I think he's a pretty good old scout in spite of his temper," said the boy.
"Well," admitted Judith, "I guess I do too. At least, I can see why so many women like him. He's awful good-looking. I can see that now I'm growing up."
"Growing up!" mocked Douglas.