There was something very pleading in his voice, it seemed to me.

"Perhaps in a day or two it won't--it won't matter much what I shall do,
Daddy dear," I answered.

He took me and pressed me to his breast and I felt as if many years were
passing away, and I was again the desolate little girl who used to come
to him with her woes, when a kitten died or a doll was broken. He sat
again in his armchair, and I rested on the arm.

"Let us talk as in the old days, girlie," he said. "Let us be the loving
friends we've been all these years. I want to see you happy. Your
happiness is the only thing in the world that really concerns me now. To
obtain it for you I would spend my last cent and give the last drop of my
blood. You believe me, don't you?"

"Indeed I do, Daddy dear," I answered. "I don't deserve such kindness.
I'm afraid I am a very selfish girl."

"You haven't an atom of selfishness in you, Helen. You are a woman, a
true, strong, loving woman. We shall remain here as long as you want to.
Now that there is another doctor here I am not so much afraid for you. If
Grant should--should not recover, your old Dad's love may comfort you.
And if, as I earnestly hope, he does get well, then come to me and tell
me what you want. It shall be yours, girlie, with all my love. That's
what I wanted to say."

I slipped off the arm of the chair, and sat down at his feet, looking up
at him, through the blur that was in my eyes.