His girl--a pleasant, flower-like young creature--scolded him
affectionately. "I wish you wouldn't take so many journeys. Promise to
be careful; I worry about you when I'm not with you to take care of
you," she said, in her sweet, anxious young voice. Her father,
smiling, promised prudence, and for the mere joy of watching her let
her pack his bag, lecturing him as she did so about his health. "Now
that you have undertaken all this extra business of the Pryor-Barr
people, you owe it to your stockholders to be careful of your health,"
she told him, refusing to notice his smile when he solemnly agreed
with her.

"What would happen to the Company if anything happened to you?" she
insisted, rubbing her soft cheek against his.

"Ruin, of course."

But she would not laugh. "And what would happen to _me_?"

"Ah, well, that's a different matter," he admitted, and kissed her and
bade _her_ be careful. "What would happen to me if anything happened
to you?" he teased.

She hung about him, brooding over him like a little mother dove with a
hundred questions. "Are you going anywhere except to Mercer?"

"Well, yes; possibly."

"Where?"

"Oh, to a place called Old Chester."