“You look beautiful,” said his daughter, fervently. “Daddy, will I do?”
“Do? I should say so. That white thing looks very fine as far as I’m a judge.”
“Then that’s all right. And, Dad——”
“Yes, my girl?”
“I’m awfully scared of dinner!” Norah confessed. “Will you keep fierce waiters off me, Daddy? And tell me what to say I’ll have?”
David Linton looked at her and smiled with something like relief. He sat down and drew her towards him.
“Do you know,” he said, “you’ve looked so fine a young lady to-day that I almost feared I’d lost my little Bush mate. I suppose it’s the clothes!”
“Daddy!”
“But I fancy I haven’t,” said her father twinkling. “Don’t bother your little head about dinner—we’ll see you through. I don’t quite know how I’d have liked it if you had been self-possessed about it.”
“Self-possessed!” uttered Norah. “Why, I’m scared to my bones! And as for the clothes—if you’ll wait until to-morrow and let me get into a linen collar again——!”