Wood made no reply; but, hastily kissing his weeping daughter, and bidding her be of good cheer, hurried off. "After all, he is my father, Hoddy; and I cursed him. She spent a very disagreeable afternoon and evening—it was raining fast outside, and she had very unwisely left her soundest pair of boots in the boothole of her father’s house in Morningside Park—thinking over the economic situation and planning a course of action. Only, he'll be an interesting specimen for me to observe. His face was half hidden under a freshly pipeclayed sola topee—sun-helmet. "For my part, it's only what I expected of him," observed Mrs.
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