next time Father will say the doctor doesn't permit him to touch
anything. I didn't tell him so, of course, and I am afraid he will
manage not to see the doctor before he leaves; but, anyhow, the morning
and night juleps can be thrown out of the window after a sip to get the
smell on if he wants to throw. I wouldn't take a bet that he will
want, but I'm hoping.

I didn't see much of Whythe while Father was here--that is, by himself.
He was awfully nice to Father and he liked him very much (Father liked
Whythe, I mean), but he couldn't understand why he didn't get more of a
move on and make business for himself. I told him in Twickenham Town
people waited for business to come to them, and everybody knew Whythe
was a lawyer, and if they needed his services they would let him know,
and if they didn't there was no use waiting around, which was why he
was out of his office so much of the time. And then Father asked me
when I had heard from Billy and when he was coming home; and, thankful
to change the subject, I told him all I knew and got out the cards and
showed them to him.

We had so many things to talk about--Mother and the girls and the home
people and things, and the people he had met in Twickenham Town--that
he hadn't talked about Billy, and when I showed him the cards he said
Billy must have mighty little to do but write them, as there were
fifty-six and he hadn't been gone but five weeks. He seemed to think
that right many, so I didn't say anything much about his letters, which
are long and once a week, but told him Billy would sail on September
16th, and get back before I did--that is, if I stayed until the 27th.
He said I could if I wanted to, and that he would come down for the
last week and take me back with him, and I was so happy I swirled him
around in my arms and danced a dance I made up as I went along, and
both Billy and Whythe Eppes were out of his mind when he stopped for
breath. And that night he went away. Also that night I almost cried
my eyes out for sorrow at his going and for gladness that he was my
Father. I wonder if all girls love their fathers as I love mine!

CHAPTER XI

Billy has been pretty good about writing. Much better than I have
been. I told him I would tell him all about Twickenham and the people,
and what they did and how they did, and I intended to do it, but that
is my chief trouble. I'm a grand intender and a poor doer. Billy
never promises and always does.