“Why, papa, where are your eyes? I think she is the most charming woman I ever met,” Editha replied, with unwise enthusiasm.
“I prefer you should not be quite so free with an entire stranger—it is not proper,” he growled.
She set her little chin, and her eyes flashed with a light which told that she considered herself old enough and capable of judging for herself upon such matters.
“Have you enjoyed the evening?” she asked, avoiding any reply to his remark.
“Well enough until they came,” was the curt retort.
“I am sorry if you do not like my new friends, papa, but I thought you used to admire Mr. Tressalia,” Editha returned, a little spirit of mischief prompting the last half of her remark.
“He is well enough, only, according to my way of looking at things, it does not seem just the thing for him to be hanging around you all the time and running after you as if you belonged to him,” Mr. Dalton said, crossly.
He was evidently entirely out of sorts, and Editha knew it would be better to let the matter drop, but she could not resist one more little shaft.
“I thought you liked me to receive Mr. Tressalia’s attentions,” she said, innocently.
“So I did once, but circumstances alter cases sometimes; and—we will not discuss Mr. Tressalia further, if you please.”