father's.

And then she realized slowly that he was suffering too--that he was
looking to her for the response that had never failed him yet. His
silence told her that this thing was unavoidable, and that he needed
her help. Mates such as they must stand by one another--that was part of
the creed that had grown up in Norah's heart. Daddy had always said
that no matter what happened he could rely upon her. She could not fail
him now.

So, just as the silence in the room became oppressive, Norah smiled
into her father's eyes, and carefully put the tea-tray upon the table.

"If you say it's got to be, well, that's all about it, Daddy," she
said. The voice was low, but it did not quiver. "Don't worry, darling;
it's all right. Sarah was out, and Mary goodness knows where, so I made
tea myself; I hope it's drinkable." She brought her father's cup to his
side and smiled at him again.

"My blessed lamb!" said Mrs. Brown, hastily--and fled from the room.

David Linton did not take the cup; instead he slipped his arm round the
childish body.

"You think we can stand it, then?" he asked. "It's not you alone,
little mate; your old Dad's under sentence too."

"I think that makes things a lot easier," said Norah, "'cause you and
I always do things together, don't we, Daddy? And--and--" Just for a
moment her lips trembled. "Must we, Dad?"