"Who is Sunshine?" asked Dr. Lacey.
"Well, now," said Mr. Middleton, "here you've lived with 'em four weeks
and don't know that I call one Tempest and t'other Sunshine, and if you've
any wit, you'll know which is Sunshine."
Just then a voice was heard to exclaim, "There, I told you father was
here. I hear him now talking about Sunshine," and Fanny rushed in, and
throwing her arms around her father's neck, kissed again and again his
rough cheek, while he suddenly felt the need of his red and yellow cotton
handkerchief, and muttered something about the "roads" being so infernal
dusty that they made a fellow's eyes smart!
Then turning to Julia, who still stood in the door, he said, "Come,
Tempest, none of your pranks! Come here and shake your old pap's paw. You
needn't be afeared of this young spark, for he knows I'm your pap, and he
hain't laughed at me neither." So Julia advanced and shook her father's
hand with a tolerably good grace.
"I'm come for you to go home and see the folks," said Mr. Middleton; "so
you pick up your duds--and mind not to take a cussed bandbox--and after
dinner we'll start for home."
"It wants an hour of dinner time," said Julia, "and as we are not hungry,
we can start in a few moments, if you like."
"Fury-ation," said Mr. Middleton, "I wonder if we can. Well, start on then
afoot, if you're in such a hurry. I shan't budge an inch till I've had my
dinner; besides, I want to see Mr. Wilmot."
Julia saw that she must submit to the mortification of seeing her father
at Mrs. Crane's dinner table, and with a beating heart she heard the bell
summon them to the dining room. Mrs. Carrington did not appear--her nerves
had received too great a shock--and for that Julia was thankful. Dr. Lacey
sat by her father and paid him every possible attention.
"Will you take soup, Mr. Middleton?" asked Mrs. Crane.
"What kind of soup? Beef soup, or mud turkle?"
"It is vermicelli," said Mrs. Crane, hardly able to keep her face
straight.
"Vermifuge--vermifuge," repeated Mr. Middleton. "That's almighty queer
stuff to make soup on. No. I'm 'bleeged to you; I ain't in need of that ar
medicine."
Julia reddened, while Fanny burst into a laugh and said, "Father isn't
much used to French soups, I think."
"Use your napkin, father," softly whispered Julia.