I looked at Mother then. Her face was all pinky-white, and her eyes
were shining. I guess she thought I spoke, for all of a sudden she
shook her head and said:

"No, no, I couldn't, I couldn't! But _you_ may, dear. Run along and
speak to him; but don't stay. Remember, Mother is waiting, and come
right back."

I knew then that it must have been just my eyes that spoke, for I
_did_ want to go down there and speak to Father. Oh, I did want to go!
And I went then, of course.

He didn't see me at first. There was a long line of us, and a big fat
man was doing a lot of talking to him so we couldn't move at all, for
a time. Then it came to when I was just three people away from him.
And I was looking straight at him.

He saw me then. And, oh, how I did love the look that came to his
face; it was so surprised and glad, and said, "Oh! _You_!" in such a
perfectly lovely way that I choked all up and wanted to _cry_. (The
idea!--cry when I was so _glad_ to see him!)

I guess the two folks ahead of me didn't think they got much
attention, and the next minute he had drawn me out of the line, and we
were both talking at once, and telling each other how glad we were to
see each other.

But he was looking for Mother--I know he was; for the next minute
after he saw me, he looked right over my head at the woman back of me.
And all the while he was talking with me, his eyes would look at me