"Do please drink your tea, before it cools," he said, pleadingly. "When Jemima comes back, I shall send her up to help you, and clear all the wet things away." And then he went downstairs, and set on the kettle again to boil; and all the while the memory of a bare little foot resting on a girl's soft, pink palm, haunted him. "It is the eternal motherhood," he said to himself, "that is in all true women. No wonder Bet loves her. How could she help it?--how could she help it?" And then the door-bell rang, and Jemima entered with profuse apologies at her tardiness. She was sent upstairs with a supply of hot water and towels, and as soon as Betty had finished her tea, her face and hands were washed, her hair dried and neatly tied with a ribbon. Then she was dressed in clean, fresh garments. "I have got my best frock on, and I feel quite nice, and like Christmas Eve," exclaimed Betty, with a quaint little caper. "Oh, I am sure dad must have come, and Aunt Joa, too. Do let us go downstairs." "Let me wash my hands first, darling," pleaded Waveney. "And oh, dear, how untidy I look!" and Betty stood by the toilet-table watching with critical eyes while Waveney tried to bring the unruly locks into order. "Aunt Joa has such long, long hair," she observed. "When she sits down it almost touches the floor. But yours is nice baby hair, too--it is like little rings that have come undone; but it is pretty, don't you think so?"--feeling that Waveney must be the best judge of such a personal matter. Jemima giggled as she picked up the little muddy boots. "Law, Miss Bet," she said, reprovingly, "how you do talk! No little ladies that I ever knew said such things. There's your pa, he is downstairs and a-waiting for his tea." But Bet heard no more. "Come, come," she said, pulling Waveney by the dress. "Dad is downstairs, and the curls don't matter one bit." Then Waveney reluctantly followed her; her hat and gloves were drying; she could not possibly put them on for another half-hour, and she could hardly stay ruminating in Miss Chaytor's bedroom. Joanna had not yet returned; she was evidently weather-bound at some friend's house, but a good-looking, weather-beaten man, in a rough grey coat, stood with his back to the fire. Bet ran to him at once. "Oh, dad, I did so want to be ready for you, but I got wet and the little lady was helping me to dress up again." "Yes, I know, Bet;" and then her father kissed her a little gravely, and held out his hand to Waveney. "I am very grateful to you, Miss Ward. My brother has been telling me of your kindness to my little girl; she has been a very naughty child, I am afraid." Then Bet looked up in his face, and her lip quivered. "Was it really bad of me to go out and meet you, dad?--really and truly?" "Yes, darling, really and truly." And then Tristram took her on his knee. "What would dad have done without his little Betty?--and she might have been lost or run over."