The child stared at the intruder, who
stopped and pushed his hat to the back of his head.
"Pop!" exclaimed the child, suddenly, without moving.
"Mary!" exclaimed the man, dropping upon his knees and kissing the
dirty face again and again. "What are you doin' here?"
"Playin' house," said the child, as impassively as if to have had her
father absent two years was so common an experience that his return did
not call for any manifestation of surprise or affection.
"Stand up a minute, dear, and let me look at you. Let's see,--you're
twelve years old now, ain't you? You don't seem to have growed a bit.
How's the rest?"
"Mam's crosser an' crosser," said the child; "Joe's run away, 'cause
the constable was after him for stealin' meat from--"
"My boy a thief! Oh, Lord!"
"Well, we didn't have nothin' to eat; he had to do it."
The father dropped his head and shuddered. The child continued:
"Billy's goin' to school now; Jane's servant-gal at the hotel; Tom
plays hookey all the time, an' the baby squalls so much that nobody
likes her but Billy."
The man looked sad, then thoughtful; finally he put his arm around his
child, and said, as he kissed and caressed her,--
"You're to have a better dad after this, darlin'; then maybe the
mother'll feel pleasanter, an' the baby'll be happier, an' Tom'll be a
good boy, an' we'll get Joe back somehow.
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