"Don't take it to heart, dear
papa," she pleaded, pressing her cheek against his face. "It was only
thoughtlessness on their part; they _didn't_ mean to grieve you, I know
they didn't. Oh, boys, Betty, speak up and assure papa of this."
I began to cry out loud. I _despise_ crying, and I know papa hates it,
but I simply _had_ to sob, or I would have choked. The boys felt badly,
too. Fee leaned on the desk and said, low and very earnestly, "I am _so_
ashamed of myself, father. And I know Phil is, too."
"I've made a great ass of myself," growled poor Phil. "I wish, sir, that
you'd give me a thrashing, as if I were a little shaver,--a sound one; I
know I deserve it."
But papa loosed Nannie's arms from about his neck, and put her gently
from him. "My dear," he said wearily, "I--I--wish you would make them
all go; I want to be alone."
* * * * *
Papa did not come down to dinner that evening, and we were a very
subdued party, though Nora tried to cheer Phil up by telling him that
she knew he had done what he had for the benefit of the whole
family,--she didn't tell _me_ that!
"Yes," answered our eldest brother, gloomily, "it was my first attempt
at that sort of philanthropy, and it'll be my last--stop staring at me,
Jack, or I'll throw a bread-pill at you.
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