"Nor I either. So let us to business. Here, take this chair beside me. Do you know how much you are worth?" "Not precisely, sir," she answered demurely, taking the chair and folding her hands pensively in her lap; "but very little, I presume, since you have given me away for nothing." "By no means," he said, with a slight smile of amusement at her unwonted mood. "It was for your own happiness, which is no trifle in my esteem. But you belong to me still." She looked at him with glistening eyes. "Thank you, dearest papa; yes, I do belong to you and always shall. Please excuse my wilful misunderstanding of your query. I do not know how much money and other property I own, but have an idea it is a million more or less." "My dear child!--it is fully three times that." "Papa! is it indeed?" "Yes, it was about a million at the time of your Grandfather Grayson's death, and has increased very much during your mamma's minority and yours; which you know has been a very long one. You own several stores and a dwelling house in New Orleans, a fine plantation with between two and three hundred negroes, and I have invested largely for you in stocks of various kinds both in your own country and in England. I wish you to examine all the papers, certificates of stock, bonds, deeds, mortgages, and so forth." "Oh, papa!" she cried, lifting her hands in dismay, "what a task. Please excuse me. You know all about it, and is not that sufficient?" "No, the property is yours; I have been only your steward, and must now render up an account to you for the way in which I have handled your property." "You render an account to _me_, my own dear father," she said low and tremulously, while her face flushed crimson; "I cannot bear to hear you speak so. I am fully satisfied, and very, _very_ thankful for all your kind care of it and of me." He regarded her with a smile of mingled tenderness and amusement, while softly patting and stroking the small white hand laid lovingly upon his. "Could I--could any father--do less for his own beloved child?" he asked. "Not you, I know, papa. But may I ask you a question?" "As many as you like." "How much are you worth? Ah! you needn't look so quizzical. I mean how much do you own in money, land, etc.?" "Something less than a million; I cannot tell you the exact number of dollars and cents." "Hardly a third as much as I! It doesn't seem right. Papa, take half of mine." "That wouldn't balance the scales either," he said laughingly; "and besides, Mr. Travilla has now some right to be consulted." "Papa, I could never love him again, if he should object to my giving you all but a few hundred thousands." "He would not. He says he will never touch a cent of your property; it must be settled entirely upon yourself, and subject to your control. And that is quite right; for he, too, is wealthy."