"You bet he is!" Lily said, proudly. "Have another piece? I've got to take some over to Ash Street for that poor old man.... Oh yes; I was kind of put out at his daughter. Wouldn't you think, if anyone was enough of a lady to wash your father, you wouldn't go to the Board of Health about her? But there! The old gentleman's silly, so I have to take him some gingerbread.... Say, I must tell you something funny—he's the cutest young one! I gave him five cents for the missionary box, and he went and bought a jew's-harp! I had to laugh, it was so cute in him. But I declare, sometimes I don't know what I'm going to do with him, he's that fresh!"
"Spank him," Maurice advised.
Lily looked annoyed; "He suits me—and he belongs to me."
"Of course he does! You needn't think that I—" he paused; something would not let him finish those denying words: "that I—want him." Jacky, standing with stocky legs wide apart, his hands behind him, his fearless blue eyes looking right into Maurice's, made his father's heart quicken. Jacky was Lily's, of course, but—
So they looked at each other—the big, blond, handsome father and the little son—and Jacky said, "Mr. Curtis, does God see everything?"
"Why, yes," Maurice said, rather confused, "He does; Jacky. So," he ended, with proper solemnity, "you must be a very good boy."
"Why," said Jacky, "will He get one in on me if I ain't?"
"So I'm told," said Maurice.
"Does He see everything?" Jacky pressed, frowning; and Maurice said:
"Yes, sir! Everything."