Sometimes the General would tell her about his campaigns, of which she never wearied, or he would go further back still and tell her of the old days at Sandhurst and Aldershot and all the wild things he had done then. Once he brought the quick tears to her eyes by saying: “Ah, Paddy! they were grand times, and I’d have liked you to go through them; yet where would I have been for a walking stick now? I expect the Almighty knew best. I married too late in life to be trusted with a son. Boys want a father who can be a boy with them, and not a crotchety old man who needs caring for like a child. It’s hard, enough on the girls—eh, Paddy!—a father who’s too old and decrepit to take them anywhere or be anything but a burden!” Paddy stood still suddenly. There were tears in her eyes, but she frowned like some ferocious Medusa. “How dare you!” she said sternly. “How dare you speak to me like that! If you ever say anything of the kind again, you bad, wicked daddy, I shall just march you back home and not speak to you for a week.” The General smiled tenderly. “Do you now, Paddy,” he said a little wistfully, “before you came, I used sometimes to think I’d done the wrong thing in persuading your mother to many me. You see, I loved her so; I was certain I could soon make her forget and love again. But women’s hearts are wonderful things. I’m thinking God didn’t make anything else quite as wonderful, and it wasn’t her fault that she couldn’t forget. But she was always just goodness itself to me, and there was no sacrifice she would not have made willingly to please me; but after a time I found it wasn’t any good, for I still felt she was mourning secretly. I couldn’t bear her to be unhappy, you see, and feel I couldn’t help it. At first I thought if she would only come to me, and let me have the right to take care of her always, that in itself would be a world of happiness. Afterward I found it wasn’t enough. I wanted more of her love. When Eileen was born she was brighter and happier altogether, and at first I was content. Then I began to feel a little jealous of the newcomer who had succeeded where I had failed, and to feel a new sense of loneliness.” “Poor daddy,” Paddy said lovingly. “I expect God said to Himself, ‘I must send him something now that won’t leave him time to think—the very naughtiest, unmanageable child that can possibly live; and I’ll make it a girl instead of a boy, so that she’ll be a good walking stick later on.’ And behold! there was Paddy.”