He had hardly completed this function when the door opened and Rosalind sailed in, looking particularly charming after a breezy walk across the park.
She had rarely seen her father in better and more amiable spirits.
“Ah, my dear child,” said he; “it does one good to see you again. A week’s absence is a long time. And how are you getting on at the Vicarage?”
“They are awfully kind to me,” said Rosalind, “and I like my little pupils. I half wish it was harder work. As it is, I get time for a little art in between lessons. I’ve come over to-day to finish my picture of the old tower for Roger’s birthday.”
“Ah, to be sure. The dear boy’s birthday is getting near. We shall depend on you to help us here on the day, Rosalind. So they make you happy, do they? I am very glad to hear it. Have you all you want?”
“Everything, dear father; and it makes all the difference to me to feel I am supporting myself.”
“Brave little puss. See now,” added the fond parent, taking out a couple of sovereigns from his purse.
“I want you to take these to get any little trifle which may add to your comfort. I have not been very lavish with pocket-money, but I think just now you may find this useful. Take it, my dear child, and bless you.”
“Really, I have all I—”
“You must not refuse me, daughter; it will please me if you take it.”