“Poor little girl. We’ll sit down.”
There was a seat at the end of the terrace. He picked her up as if she had been a baby and carried her to it. She gave a little cry.
“I didn’t mean I was too tired to walk,” she said, laughing tremulously. “How strong you are, father! If I were naughty you could take me up and shake me till I was good, couldn’t you?”
“Of course; and send you to bed, too, so you be careful, young woman.”
He lowered her to the seat. Molly drew the cloak closer round her and shivered.
“Cold, dear?”
“No.”
“You shivered.”
“It was nothing; yes, it was,” she went on quickly.
“It was. Father, will you promise me something?”