“How many hours does Bob work?” inquired Daisy, moving away and drawing Rover along by the ear; for Rover seemed unwilling to depart. “Twelve, miss,” replied the foreman. “Twelve!” repeated Daisy, lifting her eyebrows. “Does he really? Why, I don’t work two. My governess likes to drive in the Park, and so do I; and we think two hours long enough.” “Well, I have seen him, pa,” said Daisy a few minutes later, as she and her father were driving away. “Have you? Humph! then I suppose we may now go to Tiffany’s,” rejoined Mr. Goodman somewhat petulantly. “And, pa, Flywheel Bob isn’t a bit like any other boy I have ever seen. Why, he is all doubled up; his bony fingers move quick, quick, ever so quick; his eyes keep always staring at his fingers, and”――here an expression of awe shadowed the child’s bright face a moment――“and really, pa, I thought he said ‘hiss-s-s’ when the steam-pipe hissed.” “Humph!” ejaculated the manufacturer. Then, after a pause: “Well, now, my dear, let us talk about something else――about your earrings; which shall they be, pearls or diamonds?” “Diamonds, pa, for they shine prettier.” Then clapping her hands: “Oh! wouldn’t it surprise Bob if I gave him a holiday? He is making pennies for me, isn’t he? You said so this morning. Well, pa, I have pennies enough, so Bob shall play awhile; he shall come to Long Branch.” “My daughter, do not be silly,” said Mr. Goodman. “Silly! Why, pa, if Rover likes surf-bathing, I’m sure Flywheel Bob’ll like it too.” “He is too good a boy to idle away his time, my love.” “Well, but, pa, I heard you say that bathing was so healthy; and Bob doesn’t look healthy.” “Thank heavens! here we are at Tiffany’s,” muttered Mr. Goodman when presently the carriage came to a stop. But before his daughter descended he took her hand and said: “Daisy, you love me, do you not?” “Love you, pa? Of course I do.” And to prove it the child pressed her lips to his cheek. “Then, dearest, please not to speak any more about Flywheel Bob; otherwise your governess will think you are crazy, and so will everybody else who hears you.” “Crazy!” cried Daisy, opening her eyes ever so wide. Then turning up her little, saucy nose: “Well, pa, I don’t care what Mam’selle thinks!” “But you care about what I think?” said Mr. Goodman, still retaining her hand; for she seemed ready to fly away. “Oh! indeed I do.” “Then I request you not to mention Flywheel Bob any more.” “Really?” And Daisy gazed earnestly in his face, while astonishment, anger, love, made her own sweet countenance for one moment a terrible battle-field. It was all she spoke; in another moment she and Rover were within the splendid marble store.