"Well, he is good," Ginger observed cooly, "and there's worse folk than Larry Burke, or me either."
"Miss Mariquita thinks it would be such a good thing for him," Sarella reported. "So must any one."
Ginger felt that this, after her unpleasantness to the young lady who brought the message, was handsome.
"He might do better," she declared, "and he might do worse."
"Has he said anything?" her father inquired with undisguised incredulity.
"What he's said is nothing," Ginger calmly replied. "It's what I think as matters. He's no Cressote, but he's got a bit—or ought, if he hasn't spent it. I'd keep his money together for him, and he'd soon find it a saving. And I could do with him—for if his head's soft so's his heart. I think, Dad," she concluded, willing "to take it out" of her father for his unflattering incredulity, "you may as well, when Miss Sarella's gone, tell him to step round. I'll soon fix it."
"I couldn't do that," Jack expostulated.
"Why not?" Ginger demanded with fell determination.
"I really don't see why you shouldn't," Sarella protested, much amused though not betraying it. "It's all for his good," she added seriously.
Jack was shaken, but not yet disposed to obedience.