"Yes, I am quite sure of it," he said. "And that my wife is fond of me also," with a smiling glance at her, "and altogether it makes me a very happy man."
"As you deserve to be," said Violet, gayly. "Please, sir, will you allow me to fold my dresses?"
"No, for here comes Agnes," as the maid entered the room, "who, I dare say, can do it better. Come, Lulu, we will go now to your room."
Violet stayed where she was to direct and assist Agnes, and Lulu was glad, because she wanted to be alone with her father for a while.
When her trunk was packed he turned to leave the room, but she detained him. "Papa," she said, clinging to his hand, "I—I want to speak to you."
He sat down and drew her to his side, putting an arm about her waist. "Well, daughter, what is it?" he asked kindly, stroking the hair back from her forehead with the other hand.
"Papa, I—I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry for——" she stammered, her eyes drooping, her cheeks growing crimson.
"Sorry for your former naughtiness and rebellion?" he asked gently, as she paused, leaving her sentence unfinished.
"Yes, papa, I couldn't bear to let you go away without telling you so again."
"Well, daughter, it was all forgiven long ago, and you have been a pretty good girl most of the time since that first sad week."