Molly had regained her composure by this time. Her father was taking the thing better than she had expected.
"It's Jimmy, father, dear," she said. "Jimmy Pitt."
"Dear old James," murmured the visitor.
"I know, me dear, I know. Wahye?"
"Still well," replied Jimmy cheerfully. "Sitting up, you will notice," he added, waving a hand in the direction of his teacup, "and taking nourishment. No further bulletins will be issued."
"Jimmy is staying here, father. He is the friend Spennie was bringing."
"This is the friend that Spennie brought," said Jimmy in a rapid undertone. "This is the maiden all forlorn who crossed the seas, and lived in the house that sheltered the friend that Spennie brought."
"I see, me dear," said Mr. McEachern slowly. "'Wah——"
"No, I've guessed that one already," said Jimmy. "Ask me another."
Molly looked reproachfully at him. His deplorable habit of chaffing her father had caused her trouble in the old days. It may be admitted that this recreation of Jimmy's was not in the best taste; but it must also be remembered that the relations between the two had always been out of the ordinary. Great as was his affection for Molly, Jimmy could not recollect a time when war had not been raging in a greater or lesser degree between the ex-policeman and himself.