"She wouldn't see me--if I called, my dear," he answered.

He sighed as he said it, and I sighed, too. And for a minute I didn't
say anything. Of course, if she wouldn't _see_ him--

Then another idea came to me.

"But, Father, if she _would_ see you--I mean, if you got a chance, you
_would_ tell her what you told me just now; about--about its being
your fault, I mean, and the spirit of youth beating against the bars,
and all that. You would, wouldn't you?"

He didn't say anything, not anything, for such a long time I thought
he hadn't heard me. Then, with a queer, quick drawing-in of his
breath, he said:

"I think--little girl--if--if I ever got the chance I would say--a
great deal more than I said to you to-night."

"Good!" I just crowed the word, and I think I clapped my hands; but
right away I straightened up and was very fine and dignified, for I
saw Aunt Hattie looking at me from across the room, as I said:

"Very good, then. You shall have the chance."

He turned and smiled a little, but he shook his head.

"Thank you, child; but I don't think you know quite what you're
promising," he said.