"What all could you and he find to talk about till this hour o' the night ?" She laughed gaily.

"You don't know me, papa!" "How's that ?" "You've never found out that I always do all the talking." "Didn't you let him get a word in all evening ?" "Oh, yes; every now and then." Adams took her hand and petted it.

"Well, what did he say ?" Alice gave him a radiant look and kissed him.

"Not what you think!" she laughed; then slapped his cheek with saucy affection, pirouetted across the narrow hall and into her own room, and curtsied to him as she closed her door.
Adams went back to his writing with a lighter heart; for since Alice was born she had been to him the apple of his eye, his own phrase in thinking of her; and what he was doing now was for her.
He smiled as he picked up his pen to begin a new draft of the painful letter; but presently he looked puzzled.

After all, she could be happy just as things were, it seemed.