"She seems much stronger."
Miss O'Reilly looked disappointed. Cornelius questioned me concerning my studies; I answered to his satisfaction; he stroked my hair and called me a good child.
"It is very odd you will persist in calling Daisy a child," drily said
Miss O'Reilly.
"Well, am I not his child?" I asked.
"Nonsense!" she replied, looking provoked.
"Indeed, I am his adopted daughter," I said eagerly.
"I never yet heard that a man of twenty-six or so had a daughter near seventeen," was her ironical reply.
Cornelius smiled; but I warmly vindicated our relationship.
"I am very glad he is so young," I observed. "Most girls have old fathers; mine is not old; he will live the longer."
Cornelius laughed; his sister said "Pish!" and Jane, by bringing in the supper-tray, closed the conversation. Indeed our discourse was of the most desultory kind. Although Cornelius protested that he was not in the least fatigued, having rested in London before coming to us, Kate would not hear of our sitting up. She made me leave him just as I was beginning to talk to him of his painting. To comfort me she confidently informed me as we went upstairs, that a large wooden case in the back parlour contained his pictures; to this intelligence she added, with a significant look—