And then her father rose to the occasion magnificently.
"What will I say," he repeated in a loud, full voice, "to Freddy Larkin's father when he makes fun of me for having a little girl who went in swimming with the boys?"
He paused impressively, and suddenly Margery understood. He was the only one of them all who knew that of course she was listening! And he had known it all along and had been sending messages, no, not of excuse for her naughtiness—they would have that out together, later—but of love and encouragement for herself. Oh, how she would try never to grieve him again!
"I'll tell you what I'll say," his adorable voice continued. "I'll say, 'Well, I just bet you a great big round dollar that Freddy will never see Margery do such a thing again!' Why, do you know, Gladys, I'd be willing to risk five dollars!"
Then he came into the house and her mother kept him a moment in the library. She could not hear what her mother said, but her father's answer, "Of course I shall be severe, if necessary," put a sudden chill on her heart.
Then she heard his foot on the stairs; and she buried her face in the pillow, pretending to be asleep.
Her father stood over her a moment, looking down at her quietly. She could feel him looking. Then he said, "Margery," softly, gently. It seemed to her that she had never heard her name pronounced so sweetly, so lovingly. Whatever little ice of rebellion had formed anew around her heart melted that instant, and, like a whirlwind, she threw her arms about her father's neck and crushed her chill little nose and her burning face against his cheek. There she sobbed out her love and repentance.
"And papa—papa," she gasped as soon as she could speak, "you can bet him ten dollars if you want to, and you won't lose! I promise you, papa, you won't lose! You won't!"