“No’m; but we want to cure him of smoking.”
The little woman laughed, and the next time she saw the judge she told him about it.
“Well, well,” said he thoughtfully, “if my little daughter is taking me in hand, it is high time I tried to do better.”
He knew Posy did not like his pipe, and he began to think that was why Nunky got more of her kisses than he did. Dainty little Posy! The touch of her sweet, pure lips was very precious to her father.
He tried her that night. He did not take out his meerschaum; and she remained sitting on his knee, looking very happy, instead of slipping off, and running to Nunky. She kissed him, too, a great many times.
“You do love papa; don’t you, darling?”
“Oh, dearly I do! But I wish your head wasn’t so bald,” said Posy, patting it mournfully. “I’m afraid you’ll be my grandpa ’fore I know it.”
The judge laughed.
“Well, poor papa can’t help growing bald. But do you think he’s nicer when he doesn’t smoke?”