o say to you in the
hurry of our arrival in New York that I am obliged to you for a good
many little attentions, which I should be pleased to reciprocate if
opportunity offered. I do not think I am going too far in saying that
they are such as a daughter might offer a parent."

"Oh, don't speak of it, Mr. Osson!" she protested. "I haven't done
anything that any one wouldn't have done."

"I presume," said the minister, thoughtfully, as if retiring from an
extreme position, "that they are such as others similarly circumstanced,
might have done, but it will always be a source of satisfaction for you
to reflect that you have not neglected them."

XXXVII.

In the crowd which thronged the steamer's dock at Hoboken, Clementina
strained her eyes to make out some one who looked enough like her lover
to be his father, and she began to be afraid that they might miss each
other when she failed. She walked slowly down the gangway, with the
people that thronged it, glad to be hidden by them from her failure, but
at the last step she was caught aside by a small blackeyed, black-haired
woman, who called out "Isn't this Miss Claxon? I'm Georrge's sisterr.
Oh, you'rre just like what he said! I knew it! I knew it!" and then
hugged her and kissed her, and passed her to the little lean dark old
man next her. "This is fatherr. I knew you couldn't tell us, because I
take afterr him, and Georrge is exactly like motherr."

George's father took her hand timidly, but found courage to say to
his daughter, "Hadn't you betterr let her own fatherr have a chance at
herr?" and amidst a tempest of apologies and self blame from the sister,
Claxon showed himself over the shoulders of the little man.

"Why, there wa'n't no hurry, as long as she's he'a," he said, in prompt
enjoyment of the joke, and he and Clementina sparely kissed each other.

"Why, fatha!" she said. "I didn't expect you to come to New Yo'k to meet
me."

"Well, I didn't ha'dly expect it myself; but I'd neva been to Yo'k, and
I thought I might as well come. Things ah' ratha slack at home, just
now, anyway."

She did not heed his explanation. "We'e you sca'ed when you got my
dispatch?"

"No, we kind of expected you'd come any time, the way you wrote afta
Mrs. Landa died. We thought something must be up."

"Yes," she said, absently. Then, "Whe'e's motha?" she asked.

"Well, I guess she thought she couldn't get round to it, exactly," said
the father. "She's all right. Need