Excerpt
CHAPTER I TWO YOUNG GIRLS
"And you are quite sure, daddy, I am not dreaming? That I am sitting right here with my arms around your neck, and you have just told me it is all perfectly true?" And, to make still more certain that the whole matter was one of unquestionable reality, the girl gave her parent such a flesh and blood hug that a physical answer came to her question in the shape of a protest from the very wideawake man.
"Now, see here, Little Captain," he remarked, "it is all very well to make sure we are not dreaming, and that all the good news is real, but please remember I have put on a clean collar and—your tactics are quite military. You are acquiring muscle."
Major Dale kissed his daughter fondly as she relinquished her hold on him, and smoothed back a stray lock of his silvery hair.
"I'm so glad for you, daddy," she went on. "You do so need a real rest, and now we will not have to plan every day what we may spend to-morrow. I fancy I will still keep the note-book going with pounds and prices of things, and an occasional orange, and even some foreign fruit now and then. Dear me! I feel the good of that money already. We can have so many luxuries—no more scrimping and patching—"
"But, daughter dear," interrupted the major, "you must not imagine that mere money can bring happiness. It depends entirely upon the proper use of that commodity—we must always exercise good judgment, whether one dollar or one hundred dollars are involved."
"Oh, of course, I know we are not so very rich, we cannot just exactly live sumptuously, but we may live comfortably. And really, daddy, now that it is over, I may as well own up, I have longed with the longest kind of longing for a brand-new hat. May I really have one? Ribbons and all?"
"Two, one for Sunday and one for every day," promptly responded the major, laughing. "But your hats always look new—"
"They do say I have talent for hats, and that one must have originality to trim and keep old head-gear up to date. So, daddy dear, perhaps, some day, that hint of talent may develop—I may be an artist or something. Then I will bless the days when I had to make over hats to discover myself," and Dorothy promptly clapped upon her blond head such a confusion of straw and flowers, to say nothing of the dangling blue ribbons, that even the major, with his limited appreciation of "keeping old head-gear up-to-date" was forced to acknowledge that his daughter did know how to trim a hat.
"When will the money come?" she asked, tilting her head to one side to get a look in the small oval mirror, that was sufficiently large for the major's neckties, but was plainly too short for hats.
"We won't get it by the pound, like butter, you know, daughter. Nor is it a matter of so many blank checks to be filled out as we progress with penmanship—like copy-book work. As a matter of fact, I have just received the legal information that my dear old soldier uncle Ned—otherwise known as Captain Edward Dale on the retired list, resident of India, subject of Great Britain, has answered the last roll call—and left what he had to me....