"Father," she said, in a tone which had in it, to his wonder, a firm womanliness--his own daughter seemed to speak to him as if she were his mother--"you are not telling me the truth.
Something is the matter, or you wouldn't do like this." "No, there's nothin', nothin' at all, dear child," said Andrew.

He tried to loosen her little, clinging hand from his arm.

"Come, let's go back to the house," he said.

"Don't you mind anything about it.
Sometimes father gets discouraged over nothin'." "It isn't over nothing," said Ellen.

"What is it about, father ?" Andrew tried to laugh.