He felt like a fool. How long was it since he had sent her a black doll baby? “I thought you were still a little girl,” he blurted. “Nobody told me——” “—that little girls grow up. They do.” “You can’t be more than fourteen—or fifteen,” he charged, trying to escape from his mistake. “I’m going on seventeen, sir,” she said demurely. “Your letter——” “—was from a little girl to whom you sent a nigger doll.” “You said in it——” “I said thank you for the doll. Wasn’t it a proper letter for a little girl to write to a kind gentleman?” She asked it with a manner of naïve innocence, hardly a hint of mirth in the dark, long-lashed eyes meeting his so directly. Mollie laughed. “She wrote and asked us not to tell you she had grown up, Hugh. We wondered when you would guess she wasn’t any longer a child.” “I’ve been several kinds of an idiot in my time, but this—this takes the cake,” Hugh said ruefully. Suddenly Victoria relented. She held out her hand impulsively. Her smile was warm and kind. “You don’t mind my little joke, do you?” “Not a bit. I brought it on myself.” “If you want to know, I thought it was dear of you to remember the little girl away at school alone.” A faint shell pink beat into the clear satiny cheeks. “I liked that little girl. She had a lot of git-up-an’-git.” Vicky laughed. “She was a terror, if that’s what you mean. Always in mischief. Mollie will tell you that.” “Yes, but she was a tender-hearted little cyclone,” smiled the older sister. Scot came into the room. “’Lo, Hugh,” he said. “When’d you get back?” Without waiting for an answer he passed to the bed upon which were his wife and his firstborn. Lightly his hand caressed her soft hair. “Everything right, Mollie?” Her eyes rested happily in his. “Everything in the world, Scot.” “This nurse I got for you treating you proper?” With a motion of his head he indicated Victoria. “She’s spoiling me.” “A. H. McClintock behaving himself?” “He’s an angel.” He kissed her. “Must take after his father then.” “I hope he does. He looks like you.” Scot laughed, and with a touch of embarrassment turned to his brother. “You see what you’ll be letting yourself in for when you marry, Hugh. Got to walk a straight and narrow line to keep your wife fooled about you. And for a reward she’ll tell you that a red wrinkled little skeezicks looks like you.” “He’s the dearest little baby I ever saw,” protested Vicky warmly. Scot poked a forefinger at the midriff of his heir. “I kind of like the little grasshopper myself.” “You know very well you’re _crazy_ about him,” Vicky answered triumphantly. Mollie only smiled. It was not necessary for her any longer to reassure herself about Scot’s love. She knew him. The days of her doubts were past. Presently Scot left the bedside and sat down on the arm of a big chair. “How’s Piodie, Hugh?”