"Yes. Every girl does."
"But I am not going to be married."
"Not just yet,"—said Mr. Copley, drawing the soft arms round his neck,—"not just yet, Dolly. But when a girl is known to have so much money as you will have, there are sure to be plenty of fellows after her. Somebody will catch you up, some of these days."
"Somebody who wants my money, father?"
"Everybody wants money"—Mr. Copley answered evasively.
"They would not come and tell you so, I suppose?"
"Not exactly. That isn't the game."
"Then they would pretend to like me, while they only wanted my money?"
"Mr. Copley, do you think what notions you are putting in Dolly's head? Don't you know yet, that whatever you put in Dolly's head, stays there?" Mrs. Copley objected.
"I like that," said Dolly's father. "Most girls' heads are like paper fly traps—won't hold anything but a fly. Dolly, in the pocket of my overcoat that hangs up in the hall, there is something that concerns you."