He sat on, thinking. It was very late, but he did not feel ready for
bed. A great moment had arrived in his affairs. For days, Wall
Street had been undergoing one of its periodical fits of jumpiness.
There had been rumors and counter-rumors, until finally from the
confusion there had soared up like a rocket the one particular stock
in which he was most largely interested. He had unloaded that
morning, and the result had left him slightly dizzy. The main point
to which his mind clung was that the time had come at last. He could
make the great change now at any moment that suited him.
He was blowing clouds of smoke and gloating over this fact when the
door opened, admitting a bull-terrier, a bull-dog, and in the wake
of the procession a girl in a kimono and red slippers.
CHAPTER IV
MOLLY
'Why, Molly,' said the policeman, 'what are you doing out of bed? I
thought you were asleep.'
He placed a huge arm around her, and drew her to his lap. As she sat
there, his great bulk made her seem smaller than she really was.
With her hair down and her little red slippers dangling half a yard
from the floor, she seemed a child. McEachern, looking at her, found
it hard to realize that nineteen years had passed since the moment
when the doctor's raised eyebrows had reproved him for his
monosyllabic reception of the news that the baby was a girl.
'Do you know what the time is?' he said. 'Two o'clock.'
'Much too late for you to be sitting here smoking,' said Molly,
severely. 'How many cigars do you smoke a day? Suppose you had
married someone who wouldn't let you smoke!'
'Never stop your husband smoking, my dear. That's a bit of advice
for you when you're married.'
'I'm never going to marry. I'm going to stop at home, and darn your
socks.'
'I wish you could,' he said, drawing her closer to him. 'But one of
these days you're going to marry a prince. And now run back to bed.
It's much too late--'
'It's no good, father dear. I couldn't get to sleep. I've been
trying hard for hours. I've counted sheep till I nearly screamed.
It's Rastus' fault. He snores so!'
Mr. McEachern regarded the erring bull-dog sternly.
'Why do you have the brutes in your room?'
'Why, to keep the boogaboos from getting me, of course. Aren't you
afraid of the boogaboos getting you? But you're so big, you wouldn't
mind. You'd just hit them. And they're not brutes--are you,
darlings? You're angels, and you nearly burst yourselves with joy
because auntie had come back from England, didn't you? Father, did
they miss me when I was gone? Did they pine away?'
'They got like skeletons. We all did.'
'You?'
'I should say so.'
'Then, why did you send me away to England?'
'I wanted you to see the country. Did you like it?'
'I hated being away from you.'
