He was very, very fond of his only child; the pity was he saw her so seldom.

"No," he said, "I'm afraid not Joe.

Old Aunt, as we calls the old lady, keeps Daisy pretty tightly tied to her apron-string.

She was quite put about that week the child was up with us last June." "Indeed?
Well, so long!" After his wife had let their friend out, Bunting said cheerfully, "Joe seems to like our Daisy, eh, Ellen ?" But Mrs.Bunting shook her head scornfully.

She did not exactly dislike the girl, though she did not hold with the way Bunting's daughter was being managed by that old aunt of hers--an idle, good-for-nothing way, very different from the fashion in which she herself had been trained at the Foundling, for Mrs.Bunting as a little child had known no other home, no other family than those provided by good Captain Coram.
"Joe Chandler's too sensible a young chap to be thinking of girls yet awhile," she said tartly.
"No doubt you're right," Bunting agreed.