Ellen, returning later triumphantly with a taxi, held wide the door, a
wide and loving smile across her plain face.

"You come too, Sir," said Jan Cuxson. "Do you heaps of good to ride an
elephant!"

"I only wish I could, boy," said the man as he laid one hand on the
shoulder of the son he loved, and the other on Leonie's head. "But
I've much to do in that opium case, and I'm dining out, and shall read
a bit when I get back----"

"And I'm dining out too, more's the nuisance, otherwise I could help.
Sure to be awfully late as it's a farewell dinner to a fellow at the
hospital----"

"Well! See you in the morning! Good-bye, sweetheart, I won't forget
the book, and just you make that lazy fellow show you everything!"

He bent and kissed Leonie as she lifted her face, which was an
unheard-of thing for her to do, and watched her as, hugging the
struggling dog, she ran down the steps and was lifted into the taxi by
her companion.

With his foot on the step Jan hesitated, then turned and walked back to
his father.

"I don't know why. Sir, but I do wish you'd come too," he said slowly,
looking at the man he loved with a love past the comprehension of the
younger generation of the present day.