"It is." He glanced at the slender black figure. He was still feeling
the fineness of the thing she had said about Jean. "But when she is
here I am jealous."

"Oh, Daddy."

"And I am never jealous of Hilda. If you had Emily all the time you'd
love her better than you do me."

He chuckled at their hot eyes. "If you are teasing," Jean told him,
"I'll forgive you. But Emily won't, will you, Emily?"

"No." Emily's voice was gay, and he liked the color in her cheeks.
"He doesn't deserve to be forgiven. Some day he is going to be
devoured by a green-eyed monster, like a bad little boy in a Sunday
School story."

Her needles clicked, and her eyes sparkled. There was no doubt that
there was a sprightliness about Emily that was stimulating.

"But one's only daughter, Emily. Isn't jealousy pardonable?"

"Not in you."

"Why not?"

"Well," with obvious reluctance, "you're too big for it."

"Oh," he was more pleased than he was willing to admit, "did you hear
that, Jean?"