"Tut-tut! don't you go putting yourself against your old father's will,
Patsy. It's not so far to Europe," he continued, thoughtfully, "and you
won't be away much longer than you were when you went to Elmhurst after
Aunt Jane's money--which you didn't get. Mary takes fine care of our
little rooms, and doubtless I shall be so busy that I won't miss you at
all, at all."

"Daddy!"

She was in his lap, now, her chubby arms clasped around his neck and her
soft cheek laid close beside his rough and ruddy one.

"And when ye get back, Patsy darlin'," he whispered, tenderly stroking
her hair, "the joy of the meeting will make up for all that we've
suffered. It's the way of life, mavourneen. Unless a couple happens to
be Siamese twins, they're bound to get separated in the course of
events, more or less, if not frequently."

"I won't go, daddy."

"Oh, yes you will. It's not like you to be breakin' my heart by stayin'
home. Next week, said that wicked old uncle--he remoinds me of the one
that tried to desthroy the Babes in the Woods, Patsy dear. You must try
to reclaim him to humanity, for I'm hopin' there's a bit of good in the
old rascal yet." And he looked affectionately at the round little man
under the newspaper.

Uncle John emerged again. It was wonderful how well he understood the
Doyle family. His face was now smiling and wore a look of supreme