“My dear, that's childish. Do you think the mere accident of your being or not being at home can affect my decision as to what my duty is?”
“Yes; it's my being there that matters. Those people don't care, so long as it isn't an open scandal.”
“Nollie!”
“But it is so, Daddy. Of course it's so, and you know it. If I'm away they'll just pity you for having a bad daughter. And quite right too. I am a bad daughter.”
Pierson smiled. “Just like when you were a tiny.”
“I wish I were a tiny again, or ten years older. It's this half age—But I'm not coming back with you, Daddy; so it's no good.”
Pierson sat down beside her.
“I've been thinking this over all day,” he said quietly. “Perhaps in my pride I made a mistake when I first knew of your trouble. Perhaps I ought to have accepted the consequences of my failure, then, and have given up, and taken you away at once. After all, if a man is not fit to have the care of souls, he should have the grace to know it.”
“But you are fit,” cried Noel passionately; “Daddy, you are fit!”
“I'm afraid not. There is something wanting in me, I don't know exactly what; but something very wanting.”