He looked around the table then and caught the
gleam in Caleb's eyes; he took note of Miss Sarah's illuminated face,
and gave way to a burst of querulousness not all simulation.
"_What_ is the joke?" he demanded in a voice that set them all to
rocking in their chairs. "Let me in on it--let me laugh, too--if there
is anything worth laughing at. Cal, you're growing old--old and
feeble-witted!"
He turned sternly to his daughter, but the darkly glowing eyes which
she lifted to his absolutely silenced him for an instant. Twin devils
of mischief fairly danced in their shimmering, liquid depths. The
girl's face, even to him who had long before grown overfamiliar with
its beauty, was a wonderfully lovely thing. Allison sat and stared at
her for a moment, blankly, and when he went on his voice had become
less testy.
"And you," he growled, "you have interrupted me a dozen times already,
always with some nonsense of which I can make neither rime nor reason.
Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to get Mr. O'Mara's reason for
establishing his headquarters at Thirty-Mile, instead of directing the
work from Morrison, which would seem to be far more convenient."
Barbara bobbed her head, meekly. Her giggle, however, was shameless.
"But Mr. O'Mara has been trying to tell you," she defended in a
suffocated small voice, "that it's because the work at this end is not
so difficult.
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