Sammy seated herself on her father's knee.
"Law', child, but you're sure growin' up," said Jim, with a mock groan at her weight.
"Yes, Daddy, I reckon I'm about growed; I'll be nineteen come Christmas." "O shucks!" ejaculated the man.

"It wasn't more'n last week that you was washin' doll clothes, down by the spring." The young woman laughed.

"I didn't wash no doll clothes last week," she said.

Then her voice changed, and that wide, questioning look, the look that made one think so of her father, came into her eyes.

"There's something I want to ask you, Daddy Jim.