"I've decided not to go," was the girl's firm reply.

"I fear, dear, your mother will be very annoyed if you refuse," he
remarked.

"I shall risk that, dear old dad, and stay with you to-night. Please
allow me," she added persuasively, taking his hand in hers and bending
till her red lips touched his white brow. "You have quite a lot to do,
remember. A big packet of papers came from Paris this morning. I must
read them over to you."

"But your mother, my dear! Your absence will be commented upon. People
will gossip, you know."

"There is but one person I care for, dad--yourself," laughed the girl
lightly.

"Perhaps you're disappointed over a new frock or something, eh?"

"Not at all. My frock came from town the day before yesterday. Elise
declares it suits me admirably, and she's very hard to please, you know.
It's white, trimmed with tiny roses."

"A perfect dream, I expect," remarked the blind man, smiling. "I wish I
could see you in it, dear. I often wonder what you are like, now that
you've grown to be a woman."

"I'm like what I always have been, dad, I suppose," she laughed.