"Father," I said, "do you think me cold? Or lacking in afection?"
"Certainly not."
"Or one who does not know her own mind?"
"Well," he observed, "those who have a great deal of mind do not always
know it all. Just as you think you know it some new corner comes up that
you didn't suspect and upsets everything."
"Am I femanine?" I then demanded, in an anxious manner.
"Femanine! If you were any more so we couldn't bare it."
I then inquired if he prefered the clinging Vine or the independant
tipe, which follows its head and not its instincts. He said a man liked
to be engaged to a clinging Vine, but that after marriage a Vine got to
be a darned nusance and took everything while giving nothing, being
the sort to prefer chicken croquets to steak and so on, and wearing a
boudoir cap in bed in the mornings.
He then kissed me and said:
"Just a word of advise, Bab, from a parent who is, of course, extremely
old but has not forgoten his Youth entirely. Don't try to make yourself
over for each new Admirer who comes along. Be yourself. If you want to
do any making over, try it on the boys. Most of them could stand it."
That morning, after changing another tire and breaking three finger
nails, I remembered the overcoat and, putting aside my scruples, went
through the pockets. Although containing no Burglar's tools, I found a
SKETCH OF THE LOWER FLOOR OF OUR HOUSE, WITH A CROSS OUTSIDE ONE OF THE
LIBRARY WINDOWS!
I was for a time greatly excited, but calmed myself, since there was
work to do.
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