I meant--" "Makes a hell of a lot o' difference what you meant!" "I just wanted you to know.

Good night, father." "G'night!" The sound of the young man's footsteps ascending the stairs became inaudible, and the house was quiet.

But presently, as Sheridan sat staring angrily at the fire, the shuffling of a pair of slippers could be heard descending, and Mrs.Sheridan made her appearance, her oblique expression and the state of her toilette being those of a person who, after trying unsuccessfully to sleep on one side, has got up to look for burglars.
"Papa!" she exclaimed, drowsily.

"Why'n't you go to bed?
It must be goin' on 'leven o'clock!" She yawned, and seated herself near him, stretching out her hands to the fire.

"What's the matter ?" she asked, sleep and anxiety striving sluggishly with each other in her voice.