"Well, you're a dear child," said Mr. Wilton, "and perhaps, for your sake——"
"Oh, no, father, for Basil's sake."
"Well then, for Basil's sake."
Marjorie kissed her father about a dozen times.
"You'll let Ermie just learn by her experience to be better another time, and that will be her only punishment," said Marjorie, in her wisest manner.
"Well, Maggie, I suppose I must yield to you. And now, as this is to be, and I am not to assume the rôle of the severe father—between ourselves, Maggie, I hate rôles—do let us drop the subject. I feel inclined for a game with the young ones. What do you say?"
"I say that the sun has come out, and I am as happy as the day is long," replied Marjorie. "Give me another kiss, please, father. Lucy, is that you? Father is coming to have a romp with us all. Just one minute, please, father. I must go and tell Miss Nelson the good news."
"What a blessed, happy, dear little thing Maggie is!" thought Mr. Wilton as, holding Lucy's hand, he walked slowly to the nursery playground. "She's more like her mother than any of them. Yes, this may be a lesson to Ermengarde. Poor child, I hope so."
It was late that evening when Ermengarde and Basil, standing side by side under their mother's picture, solemnly kissed each other.