On their way home that evening, therefore, she was only too glad to find herself by her father’s side.
“Well, little girl,” he said, “so you’re forsaking all your young companions and wish to sit close to the old dad?”
The old dad, it may be mentioned, was driving home in a mail-phaeton from the picnic, and Merry found herself perched high up beside him as he held the reins and guided a pair of thoroughbred horses.
“Well, what is it, little girl?” he said.
“I wonder, father, if you’d be most frightfully kind?”
“What!” he answered, just glancing at her; “that means that you are discontented again. What more can I do for you, Merry?”
“If I might only have my pocket-money to-night.”
“You extravagant child! Your pocket-money! It isn’t due for a week.”
“But I do want it very specially. Will you advance it to me just this once, dad?”
“I am not to know why you want it?”