"Say, how dare you
call your father Jim--eh, tell me that?"
"It's what mummy calls you--it's pretty."
"I don't call her 'mummy' because you do, and you mustn't call me Jim
because she does--do you hear?" The whimsical face lowered a little,
then the rare and beautiful dark blue eyes raised slowly, shaded by the
long lashes, and the voice said demurely, "Yes--Jim."
"Nancy--Nancy," said a voice from the corner in reproof, mingled with
suppressed laughter. "Nancy, you musn't be saucy. You must say 'father'
to--"
"Yes, mummy. I'll say father to--Jim."
"You imp--you imp of delight," said Jim, as he strained the dainty little
lass to his breast, while she appeared interested in a wave of his black
hair, which she curled around her finger.
Sally came forwards with the little parcel of sandwiches she had been
preparing, and put them in the saddle-bags lying on a chair at the door,
in readiness for the journey Jim was about to make. Her eyes were
glistening, and her face had a heightened colour. The three years which
had passed since she married had touched her not at all to her
disadvantage, rather to her profit.
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