“Whatever Heaven arranges must be best,” said Dora.
“Heaven and your father, if you please, Dora,” said her father: “put that and that together, like a dutiful daughter, as you must be.”
“Must!” said Dora, angrily.
“That offensive must slipped out by mistake, darling; I meant only being you, you must be all that’s dutiful and good.”
“Oh!” said Dora, “that’s another view of the subject.”
“You have a very imperfect view of the subject, yet,” said her father; “for you have both been so taken up with the manner, that you have never thought of inquiring into the matter of this letter.”
“And what is the matter?” said Miss O’Faley.
“Form!” continued the father, addressing himself to his daughter; “form, I acknowledge, is one thing, and a great thing in a daughter’s eyes.”
Dora blushed. “But in a father’s eyes substance is apt to be more.”
Dora raised her cup and saucer together to her lips at this instant, so that the substance of the saucer completely hid her face from her father.