“Good-bye. I thank you, officer.”
“Mr. Pearson, you have a beautiful daughter,” said the superintendent as the girl passed out; “not only in looks, but she is good and loyal to her father. How proud I should be of a daughter like her!”
“I am proud of her. And I am ashamed to think that I have brought on her this disgrace. I feel that I shall never again be able to hold up my head, if I should get out of here.”
“Do not talk like that. We can live down disgrace and you can show the world that you are not a bad man, after all, at heart, and I don’t think you are, Pearson.”
“Well, I’m glad I made the train all right,” said Pat, “and I got the letter off. I feel better now—not so ornery. I will take me toime going back. What do I see? The dear little girl that called me name with the handle on it? And I do believe she is crying. Now, I can’t stand to pass her and see her shedding tears. What could I say to comfort her? Well, if I don’t say anny more than ‘howdy,’ it will help some.
“How do you do?”
“Oh, dear! I was not looking up, and I didn’t see you.”
“I know you didn’t see me, but I saw you, and I want to spake to you, for sympathy’s sake.”
“I thank you, Mr. Pat. I am so sad to think I can not see papa often. I can not get away always on the visiting days, and would have to come when I could find the opportunity.”
“Well, I will see if you can not get in when you come.”