And he _has_ been different since then, you know. He really
has. He has talked quite a lot with me, as I have said, and I think
he's been trying, part of the time, to find something I'll be
interested in. Honestly, I think he's been trying to make up
for Carrie Heywood and Stella Mayhew and Charlie Smith and Mr.
Livingstone. I think that's why he took me to walk that day in the
woods, and why he took me out to the observatory to see the stars
quite a number of times. Twice he's asked me to play to him, and once
he asked me if Mary wasn't about ready to dress up in Marie's clothes
again. But he was joking then, I knew, for Aunt Jane was right there
in the house. Besides, I saw the twinkle in his eyes that I've seen
there once or twice before. I just love that twinkle in Father's eyes!
But that hasn't come any since Mother's letter to Aunt Jane arrived.
He's been the same in one way, yet different in another. Honestly, if
it didn't seem too wildly absurd for anything, I should say he was
actually sorry to have me go. But, of course, that isn't possible. Oh,
yes, I know he said that day at the dinner-table that he should like
to keep me always. But I don't think he really meant it. He hasn't
acted a mite like that since, and I guess he said it just to hush up
Aunt Jane, and make her stop arguing the matter.
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