'You know, daddy, I have no real love for music,' said Hollyhock in a cross voice.
'Well, well, then, take a book, my child. Here 's a nice story I can recommend you—Treasure Island, by Louis Stevenson.'
'I hate reading,' she said.
'Well, I'm afraid I can't help you, dear. I'm frightfully busy, and shall not get to bed until past midnight. Taking up this new work means a great deal, and you know, my Flower Girl, your Dumpy Dad, as you like to call him, is the very last person in the world to do a thing by halves. If I have to sit up till morning, I must do so in order to be prepared for Dundree and Lord Ian to-morrow. Perhaps, dear, you had best kiss me and say good-night.'
'Daddy—daddy—I 'm so—miserable!'
'Sorry, my child; but I can't see why you should be. You have all the comforts that love and sympathy can bestow upon you.'
'No, no; I am alone,' half sobbed Hollyhock.
'Don't get hysterical, my child. That is really very bad for you; but, anyhow, I 've no time to waste now over a little girl who is surrounded by blessings.'
'If Daddy Dumps goes on much longer in that strain I shall absolutely begin to hate him,' thought the furious child. 'The bare idea of his thinking of talking to me as he has done.—No, Curfew, don't! Put your cold nose away.'
Curfew heaved another heavy sigh and lay closer to Tocsin, and with a smaller portion of his tail on Hollyhock's dress.