“Well, there’s no hurry; you’re only twenty,” he said, blinking at her with sleepy eyes. “I don’t want to get rid of you. You may give yourself several years to have your fun before you settle down.”
Stella, standing behind her father’s bald and defenceless head, looked for a minute or two like a pretty but dreadful demon, threatening him with a raised fist and appalling looks. Suddenly, however, there came a transformation scene—her arms slid round his neck once more; she put her cheek against his bald head. “Papa,” she said, her voice faltering between fury and the newly-conceived plan, which, in its way, was fun, “you gave me a kind of an alternative once. You said, if I didn’t have Charlie——”
“Well?” said the old man, waking up, with a gleam of amusement in his eyes.
“I could have—you said it yourself—anything else I liked,” said Stella, drooping over the back of his chair. Was she ashamed of herself, or was she secretly overcome with something, either laughter or tears?
“Stella,” cried Katharine, “do come away now and let papa rest.” The elder sister’s face was full of alarm, but for what she was frightened she could scarcely herself have said.
“Let her get it out,” cried Mr. Tredgold. “Speak up, Stella, my little girl; out with it, my pet. What would it like from its papa?”
“You said I might have anything I liked—more diamonds, a lot of new dresses——”
“And so you shall,” he said, chuckling, till it was doubtful if he would ever recover his breath. “That’s my little girl down to the ground—that’s my pet! That’s the woman all over—just the woman I like! You shall have all that—diamonds? Yes, if I’d to send out to wherever they come from. And frocks? As many as you can set your face to. Give me a kiss, Stella, and that’s a bargain, my dear.”
“Very well, papa,” said Stella, with dignity, heaving a soft sigh. “You will complete the parure, please; a handsome pendant, and a star for my hair, and a bracelet—but handsome, really good, fit for one of the princesses.”
“As good as they make ’em, Stella.”