She would not even turn her head, but answered, “I have given up, there is no use talking to you!”
I looked at her as she sat stitching away with her mouth obstinately set; she really looked sad, so I began to be sorry that I had got the better of her. “Come here, dear, and give me a kiss; I may forget Martin, but never his namesake. Come, I have a present here for you.”
“You have some trick up your sleeve.”
“No, no, on my word, come and see what I have for you.”
“I am too busy.”
“Unnatural child, you are too busy to kiss your old father?”
She came reluctantly and stood near the bed, and I held out my arms to her.
“I don’t see any present,” said she.
“You have it now, I meant myself.”
“A pretty present you would be!”