Finally, as though swallowing his pride with a gulp, he drew a long breath, took a couple of determined strides forward, and held out his hands, one to Errington and the other to Lorimer, by whom they were warmly grasped.
"There, my lads," he said rapidly.

"I'm sorry I spoke! Forgive and forget! That is the worst of me--my blood is up in a minute, and old though I am, I'm not old enough yet to be patient.

And when I hear the name of that sneak Dyceworthy--by the gates of Valhalla, I feel as if my own house would not hold me! No, no; don't go yet! Nearly ten?
Well, no matter, the night is like the day here, you see--it doesn't matter when one goes to bed.

Come and sit in the porch awhile; I shall get cool out there.

Ah, Thelma, child! I see thee laughing at thy old father's temper! Never mind, never mind; is it not for thy sake after all ?" And, holding Errington by the arm, he led the way into the fine old porch, Lorimer following with rather a flushed face, for he, as he passed out of the room, had managed to pick up and secrete the neglected little bunch of daisies, before noticed as having fallen on the floor.
He put them quickly in his breast pocket with a curious sense of satisfaction, though he had no intention of keeping them, and leaned idly against the clambering roses, watching Thelma, as she drew a low stool to her father's feet and sat there.