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90 “No, stay with Papa. . . .”

She could not bear to see them together at this first moment of his return; after the past ten days, she must harden herself again to seeing him caress the child; and now, now she was running away, so that she might not see it. She put on her hat; kissed Addie once more, to show that she was not angry with him, was never angry with him; and went out.

“Papa,” said Addie.

Van der Welcke looked gloomy, apprehensive.

“Why do you say those things to her, Papa?”

“My boy!” He drew a deep breath, embraced his son. “Addie,” he said, “you’ve grown bigger than ever. How broad you’re getting! You’re quite a big chap, Addie; almost too big for your father to kiss and take on his knee.”

“No, Daddy; I’m your own boy.”

He sat down on Van der Welcke’s knees, flung his arms about his father’s neck, laid his soft, childish face against his father’s close-shaven cheek.

“My little chap!”

Van der Welcke pressed the boy to him, felt calmer now, with that soft cheek against his.

“What do you start quarrelling at once for?”

“It’s Mamma.”

“And you answer her. Mamma’s nerves are all on edge. Then don’t answer her.”

“What are Mamma’s people like?”

“I think they’re rather nice. Granny is very kind; and so are Aunt Bertha and Uncle Gerrit and