"I sold them all,—twenty bunches. Now!" The last word was thrown out as a joyful exclamation of triumph. Her father laughed a little. "And, father, I want to go to the woods again this afternoon for more flowers, and come back here for the 5.30 train,—there's such lots of people on that train."
The father looked grave.
"Oh, do let me, please!"
"I don't like to have you hanging around a station so much."
"But Brookside is different from a great many stations. There are no rough people ever about;" and with a brisk little air, "It's business, you see."
Mr. Benham laughed again, as he said, "Two dollars a day is pretty good business, I should think."
"But it won't last long,—only this vacation week. 'T isn't as if I were going to make two dollars every day all through the season."
"That is true. Well, go ahead and 'make hay while the sun shines.' You'll be a better business fellow than your father if you keep on. But here we are at Riverview. Mind, now, that you leave Brookside to-night on the six o'clock train, no matter whether you've sold your flowers or not."
"Yes, sir." There was a joyful sound in this "Yes, sir," and a happy upward look at her father, which he did not catch, however, for not once did his eyes move from their steady watchfulness of the road before him.