I'd have you and Mother both together, and, oh, how I should love it!" It was just here that Father's arm came out and slipped around me in a great big hug.
"Bless your heart! But, Mary, my dear, how are we going to--to bring this about ?" And he actually stammered and blushed, and he looked almost young with his eyes so shining and his lips so smiling.

And then is when my second great idea came to me.
"Oh, Father!" I cried, "couldn't you come courting her again--calls and flowers and candy, and all the rest?
Oh, Father, couldn't you?
Why, Father, of course, you could!" This last I added in my most persuasive voice, for I could see the "no" on his face even before he began to shake his head.
"I'm afraid not, my dear," he said then.

"It would take more than a flower or a bonbon to to win your mother back now, I fear." "But you could try," I urged.
He shook his head again.
"She wouldn't see me--if I called, my dear," he answered.
He sighed as he said it, and I sighed, too.

And for a minute I didn't say anything.

Of course, if she wouldn't _see_ him-- Then another idea came to me.
"But, Father, if she _would_ see you--I mean, if you got a chance, you _would_ tell her what you told me just now; about--about its being your fault, I mean, and the spirit of youth beating against the bars, and all that.