I want to talk to you." "Yes, Father." I went, of course, at once, and sat down in the chair near him.

He hitched again in his seat.
"Why don't you do something--read, sew, knit ?" he demanded.

"Why do I always find you moping around, doing nothing ?" Just like that he said it; and when he had just told me-- "Why, Father!" I cried; and I know that I showed how surprised I was.
"I thought you just said I couldn't do nothing--that nobody could!" "Eh?
What?
Tut, tut!" He seemed very angry at first; then suddenly he looked sharply into my face.

Next, if you'll believe it, he laughed--the queer little chuckle under his breath that I've heard him give two or three times when there was something he thought was funny.
"Humph!" he grunted.

Then he gave me another sharp look out of his eyes, and said: "I don't think you meant that to be quite so impertinent as it sounded, Mary, so we'll let it pass--this time.