The Prodigal Father

by J. Storer Clouston

"It was a little rough on you," he confessed.

"You mean—?" she hesitated.

"Well, well, perhaps we'd better not allude to it again," he answered kindly.

But apparently she had no intention at all of avoiding the subject.

"Oh, yes," she said eagerly. "I'd like to talk about it with you now."

It did not seem to occur to the W.S. that he might end by committing himself to some expression of sympathy he would repent of later.

"Capital," he answered genially. "You still like the fellow, then?"

"Like him!" she exclaimed. "Oh, father, I—I still love him."

"I wish he'd brush his hair a little better and wear a respectable tie; still, he undoubtedly has some original ideas."

Mr. Walkingshaw found himself musing on the artist's outrageous opinions with a new catholicity. They had staggered him at the moment: they began to interest him now.