"You were crying again last night," he said sharply.
"Yessir."
"But what did you have to cry about now? Aren't you the luckiest girl in the world?"
"Yessir."
As she spoke a flood of sunlight poured suddenly into the room; the sun had broken through the clouds, the worn dollar had become a dazzling gold-piece. The canary stirred in its cage.
"Then what were you crying about?"
"I didn't want to be lucky."
"You silly girl—I have no patience with you. And why didn't you want to see me again?"
"Please, Mr. Lancelot, I knew you wouldn't like it."
"What ever put that into your head?"