"Daddy, you are." Her countenance became pensively thoughtful as she searched her father's face earnestly.
"What fancy now?" he asked tenderly, used to her sudden change of mood.
"No fancy, Daddy, real truth. Do you know mother is with me very often? Maybe that is why I grow so like her?"
"You've said that before, Venna. Just what have you in mind?"
Venna contemplated the fantastic logs as she tried to answer.
"I don't see mother, Daddy, but I feel her presence—Oh! so surely! My thoughts are as illusive as those flames. First here, then there. I can't seem to get any clear understanding of it, yet I know it is true. Don't you believe that she could be near us? Dr. Hansom says there may be guardian angels for all of us."
"Do you think, girlie, it's wise to think too much about the may-bes? Your imagination is very strong, Venna. I really wish you were more practical, not so much of a dreamer, dear."
"Then you wouldn't have such a wonderful musician in your family," she returned, smiling.
"Very true. I guess I don't want you changed after all. You're just like your mother and I've never found her equal elsewhere."
Venna pressed her father's hand in sympathy, and there were a few moments of thoughtful silence.