Mary could not repress the rogue's laugh that sprang to her lips.
"Where's my old mumsie?" she gayly demanded, partly in the hope of concealing her wicked merriment.
"Upstairs with your Aunty Harriet."
"Aunt Harriet here!" The tone was full of surprise. And then the charming voice took a turn affectionately non-committal. "What luck! It seems an age since I saw her."
In spite of himself, Joe could not help being a little in awe of the girl. She was so remarkably striking that every time he saw her it became harder to keep up the pretense of blood relationship. She had developed into the finest young woman he had ever met. Her official father was very proud of her, the affection she inspired in him was true and real, but at the moment he was more than a little embarrassed by the impact of an immensely distinguished personality.
However, in spite of such beauty and charm, he was determined to do his duty by her; as became a father and a man he felt bound to admonish her.
"Since you took up with those people, none of us have been seeing much of you," he forced himself to say, in his most magisterial manner.
"Old story!"
"It's true and you know it." Joe declined on principle to be softened by her blandishments.
"Wicked old story!" She took him by the shoulders and shook him; and then she sighed as a mother might have done, and gazed into his solemn face. "Father," she said, "you are an old and great dear."
