"_Are_ you happy, little one?" he asked wistfully. "Are you quite sure
about that?"

"Happy!" the girl echoed the word with an incredulous smile. "Why,
dearest, what has come to you? You never needed to ask me such a
question before! Don't you know there isn't a girl in Barbadoes who has
been so thoroughly spoiled, and has found the spoiling so sweet? Do I
look more than usually mournful to-day that you should think I am pining
away with grief?" She looked up at him with a roguish laugh.

He smiled and laid his finger caressingly on the dimpled chin. "Dear
little bird!" he said tenderly; "but when this dimple captivates the
heart of some one, Vad, you will fly away and leave the poor father in
the empty nest."

Her color glowed softly through the olive skin. She threw her arms
around his neck and laid her face against his breast. "You know better!"
she exclaimed passionately. "You know I wouldn't leave you for all the
'some ones' in the world!"

Her father caught her close. "Poor little lass!" he said with a sigh.

The girl lifted her head and looked at him anxiously. "Dearest, what
_is_ the matter? I am sure you are not well! You have been sitting too
long at that tiresome writing."

"Yes, that is it, darling," he said with a sudden change of tone.
"Writing always does give me the blues. I think the man who invented the
art should have been put in a pillory for the rest of his natural life.
Blow your whistle for Sam to bring the horses and we will go for a ride