"I'm just as much your son as I ever was, Father," I said with a gulp
and a lump in my own throat. "I'm never going to be a daughter, if you
don't want one."
"I do, Phyllis, I do; but I want the son-girl sometimes, too. You go
to bed." And with a sound hug that nearly broke my ribs, as neither he
nor I were used to them, he went into his room and shut his door
decidedly.
CHAPTER VI
A serious disposition can make more trouble for itself by its own
seriousness than all the misfortunes that come can make for it. If I
had just a little touch of Roxanne Byrd's foamy spirits, I would be a
much more comfortable companion for myself. All night I lay awake,
anchored in the middle of the huge old Byrd bedstead, and sorrowed
over the misfortune that had come to Roxanne and the Idol. Over and
over I went in my mind to see where I could clear Mr. Rogers of my
suspicions until my thoughts were so pale in color that I could hardly
make them out, and at last I fell asleep in despair.
In the morning I dressed so slowly that it was nine o'clock before I
was buttoned into my dress and felt that I could go over and help
Roxanne bear the calamity.
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