Peggy laughed, colored a rosy pink but obeyed, a little thrill of
innocent triumph passing over her, for Daddy Neil's eyes held something
more than surprise, and Peggy's feminine soul detected the underlying
pride and admiration.

"By the great god Neptune, you've taken a rise out of me this time,
child. How old ARE you, anyway!"

"As though you didn't know perfectly well, you tease," laughed Peggy,
turning swiftly and nestling in his arms. The arms held her closely and
the sun-tanned cheek rested upon her dark, silky hair. The eyes were
singularly soft and held a suggestion of moisture. It did not seem so
very long ago to Daddy Neil since Peggy's beautiful mother had been in
that very room with him nestling in his arms in that same confiding
little manner. How like her Peggy had grown in looks and a thousand
little mannerisms. From the moment Peggy had met him at the Round Bay
station to this one, he had lived in a sort of waking dream, partly in
the past, partly in the present, and in the strangest possible mental
confusion. His memory picture of Peggy as he had left her in October of
the previous year was of the little hoyden in short skirts, laughing and
prancing from morning till night, and leading Mammy Lucy a life of it.

In nine months the little romp had blossomed into a very charming young
girl, dainty and sweet as a wild rose in her white duck sailor suit,
with its dark red collar, her hair braided in soft coils about her head
and adorned with a big red bow. The embryo woman stood before him.

"Yes, HOW old are you?" he insisted, looking at her with mingled,
puzzled eyes.