"Did your father do so?"
"Well, but he was my real father, and you are not, and could not be."
Kate declared there never had been such an obstinate child in all Ireland. Cornelius looked very grave, and said, as I did not value the privilege of being his adopted daughter, he should not press the point. I protested so warmly against this reproach, that he at length looked convinced, said it was all right, and again bade me good-night. I demurred, he insisted.
"Ah!" I said reproachfully, "you are not as fond of me as Papa was?"
"Why so, child?"
"If I had asked him to stay up awhile, he would not have said 'No:' he would have said, 'Yes, Margaret, my dear, it is only ten; you may stay up another quarter of an hour.'"
"Well then, stay," replied Cornelius, unable to repress a smile, "but you will make a nice exacting daughter."
"A spoiled one," said Kate.
"Let her," he replied; then laying his hand on my head, he kindly added, "Kate, this child is the only boast and good deed of my life. She makes me feel venerable and paternal, and, like a good Papa, I'll work hard to give her a marriage portion some day."
"I don't want to marry," I observed pettishly; "I don't want to leave you, Cornelius."