"Father," said Nettie. She had come close up to him, but she trembled. What possible chance could she have?
"Hollo!" said Mr. Mathieson, turning suddenly. "Nettie!—what's to pay, girl?"
He spoke roughly, and Nettie saw that his face was red. She trembled all over, but she spoke as bravely as she could.
"Father, I am come to invite you home to supper to-night. Mother and I have a particular reason to want to see you. Will you come?"
"Come where?" said Mr. Mathieson, but half understanding her.
"Come home to tea, father. I came to ask you. Mother has made something you like."
"I'm busy, child. Go home. I'm going to supper at Jackson's. Go home." He turned to his hammering again. But Nettie stood still in the snow and waited.
"Father—" she said, after a minute, coming yet closer and speaking more low.
"What? Aint you gone?" exclaimed Mr. Mathieson.
"Father," said Nettie, softly, "mother has made waffles for you,—and you used to like them so much, she says; and they are light and beautiful and just ready to bake. Wont you come and have them with us? Mother says they'll be very nice."