“No, father, please don’t.” She stood up and looked at him. “You know it is very naughty of you, and after you promised so faithfully last time that you wouldn’t get angry like that again. It’s no use promising if you never keep it, you know. And then think of all the china you’ve broken.” “Yes, I know.” He shook his head dolefully. “I don’t know what it is, my dear. I never seem to get any better. And I don’t mean anything, you know. I really don’t mean anything.” But she doubted that a little as she looked at him. She knew that, although his rage might pass, he did not forget. She had known him cherish things in his head long after they had passed from the other man’s memory, and she had seen him take his revenge. Who was this man who had insulted him? A sudden fear seized her. Supposing . . . “Father,” she said, looking up at him, “who was it said things to you this morning that made you angry?” “Ah, never mind that now, dear,” he said, his lip curling a little. “We will forget. See, I am sorry; you have forgiven me?” He sat down and drew her to him. “Look! I am just like a child. I am angry, and then suddenly it all goes.” He stroked her hair with his hand, and bent and kissed her neck. “Where was it that I hit her? Poor darling! There, on the cheek? Poor little cheek! But look! Hit me now hard with your fist. Here on the cheek. I am a brute, a beast.” “No, father,” she laughed and pulled herself away from him, “It is nothing! I have forgotten it already. Only, dear me! all the broken china! Such expense!” “Well, dear, never mind the expense. I have a plan, and we will have a lovely day. We will go into the wood with our lunch and will watch the sea, and I will tell you stories, and will play to you. What! now, won’t that be good fun?” His little yellow face was wreathed in smiles; he hummed a little tune and his feet danced on the floor. He passed his hand through his hair so that it all stood on end. “We’ll have such a game,” he said. She smiled. “Yes, father dear, that will be lovely. Only, we will be back this afternoon, because perhaps——” “Oh! I know!” He laughed at her. “Callers! Why, yes, of course. We shall be here if they come.” He chuckled to himself. “I am afraid, my dear, you have been lonely all these years. I ought to have thought of it, to give you companions.” Then he added after a little pause, “But he is a nice young fellow, Mr. Gale.” She gave a little sigh of relief; then it was not he who had quarrelled with her father that morning. “That will be splendid. I’ll go and get lunch at once.” She bent down and kissed him, and then went singing out of the room.