This her father! Althea shuddered at the idea, and she gazed as if fascinated at his one eye.
"Yes, come to your pa," said Donovan, jeeringly. "I like little gals—'specially when they're my own."
"I am not your child!" said Althea, alarmed.
"Yes, you be, and don't you deny it. Come and give your father a kiss."
The little girl began to cry in nervous terror, and Donovan laughed, thinking it a good joke.
"Well, it'll do after breakfast," he said. "Sit up, child, and we'll see what the ould woman has got for us."
Mrs. Donovan did not excel as a cook, but Althea managed to eat a little bread and butter, for neither of which articles the lady of the house was responsible. When the meal was over she said:
"Now, will you take me back to New York?"
"You are not going back at all," said Hugh. "You are our little girl, and you are going to live with us."