“Papa—please papa, do as I ask you; you are very rich, are you not?”
“Well, yes, Buttercup, I suppose I am what would be regarded as a rich man, even here in New York.”
“Then you can send this poor boy some money, just as well as not. Only think, papa, but for his bravery and the awful work that he did in that dreadful storm, there must have been a terrible accident, and I should never have come back to you, to say nothing about all those other people.”
“Hush, Goldenrod! I cannot bear that you should even hint at such a calamity; the house—the world would be utterly desolate without you. What would ten thousand fortunes be to me if I should lose you! Yes, Mollie, I will send this lad a substantial token of my gratitude, if I find he is worthy and likely to make a good use of money. I must be sure of that first,” and Richard Heatherford gathered the slim, graceful form of his only darling into his arms and held her close to his heart, while his eyes rested with tearful fondness upon the fair, flushed face that was lifted so earnestly to his.
She was his idol—this sweet, golden-haired, azure-eyed maiden, whom he had named Marie for his French mother, but whom he almost invariably addressed by some other tender pet-name, expressive of his fondness for her, while to her playmates and school friends she was known by the familiar name of Mollie.
She was sweet and lovable, always blithe and cheery, the life of the house, and a favorite with all who knew her.
Mr. Heatherford had met her in New York on her arrival on “the Limited,” and, the train being, of course, a little late, he was in a state of painful suspense until it rolled into the station, and he held his darling safe in his arms. When the two were seated in their elegant carriage behind a fine pair of bay horses, with driver and coachman in cream-white livery, and on their way uptown, Mollie, sitting beside her father with his arm enfolding her, had told the story of the thrilling experience of the afternoon, while the man’s face had grown as white as chalk, as he realized how very near he had come to losing his choicest earthly treasure.
Mollie had begged him then to send that brave boy “a lot of money,” but, for the time being, he did not pay much heed to her request. He could think of nothing, talk of nothing, but his thankfulness over her wonderful escape from an appalling doom. But the following morning, when, after breakfast, she followed him to the library and renewed the subject, he was more ready to listen to her, and finally yielded to her request to do something handsome for the lad, provided he found, upon inquiry, that he was worthy.