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Updated: May 16, 2025
"You wouldn't want to do anything you'd be sorry for, honeybug." "I'm not so sure about that," she flushed, amusement rippling her face. "Someone's got to blow up that young man like a Dutch uncle, and I think I'm elected. I'll try not to think about being a lady; then I can do my full duty, Dad. It'll be fun to see how he takes it." "Now now," he remonstrated.
Pete looked at his daughter and at the bashful, smiling boy. "I reckon I done guessed, honeybug," he answered, stroking her rebellious hair. "You're to come and live with us. Isn't he, Bob?" The young husband nodded sheepishly. He felt that it was a brutal thing to take a daughter from her father. It had not occurred to him before, but old Pete would feel rather out of it now.
"Johnnie, I'm going to ask Miss Whitford here for dinner to-night." "Say, you ce'tainly get the best notions, honeybug," he shouted. "Do you think she'll come?" "Sure she'll come." "I'll fix up the bestest dinner ever was, and maybe " Her conclusion wandered off into the realm of unvoiced hopes, but her husband knew what it was as well as it she had phrased it.
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