"I know one thing; she hasn't a darling mother like you!" and Frances emphasized her words with an ardent hug.
"Very few have, Wink," remarked her father, coming in with his hands full of papers.
"Thank you both for your kind appreciation," said Mrs. Morrison, laughing. "What do you expect to find in those papers, Jack?"
"I am going to look up advertisements."
"What for, daddy?" Frances asked, dancing about on tiptoe.
"A place for you and mother while I run off and leave you. Listen to this: 'Wanted: Occupants for a small, partially furnished flat. All conveniences, terms reasonable. Apply at 432 Walnut Street.'"
"The Spectacle Man's! the Spectacle Man's!" cried Frances, clapping her hands. "Let's go there, it's lovely!"
"How do you know?" asked her father and mother in the same breath, and then she explained how he had written the advertisement while she was waiting for the storm to be over.
"Partially furnished—it might do. I mean, of course, if it is nice," said Mrs. Morrison.
"It is too far down town," objected her husband.