As they
walked through the old street, the setting sun filling the air with a
golden glory, they passed a sweet-faced old lady cutting flowers in her
garden, and she smiled an indulgent smile, and they nodded and smiled back
at her.
"I want you to promise me something," Miss Braxton said, suddenly stopping
and looking up at him. "I want you to promise me," she continued, not
waiting for his reply, "that you will not quarrel with my father. He is the
best father in the world. My mother died when I was a child, and since then
he has been father and mother and the whole world to me. I could never
forgive myself if you exchanged a harsh word with him."
"If all the stories I hear are true," replied the Colonel, with a
good-humored laugh, "your father is the one for you to see."
"My father says a great deal which he frequently regrets the moment
afterwards," she responded, earnestly. "He is a warm-hearted and an
impulsive man, and the dearest and best father in the world." The Colonel
gave the desired promise, and they walked on in silence. When they reached
the Elms, and her hand was on the big iron gate, she turned to him, an
appealing look in her eyes.
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