Old John seemed to have regained his usual
spirits, and to her utter astonishment the girl surprised a grin upon
his face as he put up the shelter. He built a fire, and producing hook
and line from his pocket, jerked half a dozen trout from the water,
which were soon sizzling in the pan from which rose the odor of frying
bacon.
"Do you know, Dad," began the girl, after the dishes had been washed
and the man had thrown an armful of green bracken upon the fire to
smudge away the mosquitoes. "Do you know I think you are simply
wonderful?" She was leaning against his knee, and her eyes looked into
his.
"Tush, girl, what ails ye?" said the man, removing his pipe to send a
cloud of blue smoke to mingle with the gray of the smudge.
"I mean it, Daddy, dear. You are just wonderful. Oh, I know how
disappointed you are. I know just how it hurts to have a man like
Orcutt get the best of you. I saw it in your face."
"Did Orcutt see it, d'ye think?"
"Of course he did--and he just gloated."
"U-m-m," said McNabb, and his lips twitched at the corners.
"And on top of all that you can smile!"
"Yup, isn't it funny? I can even grin."
"But, Dad, will it--ruin you? Not that I care a bit, about the money.
We can be just as happy, maybe happier, without it. I'm not the little
fool you think I am. I have always spent a lot of money because I had
it to spend, but if we didn't have it, I could be just as happy making
what little I did have go as far as it could.
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