"Ah, come in!" said the man. "I want to talk with you. I believe you're called Virginia."
"Yes, sir; Jinnie, for short, sir," answered the girl, with a slight inclination of her head.
Awkwardly, and with almost an embarrassed manner, she walked in front of the grate to the chair pointed out to her. The man glanced sharply at the strongly-knit young figure, vibrant with that vital thing called "life." He sighed and dropped back limply. There followed a lengthy silence, until at last Thomas Singleton shifted his feet and spoke slowly, with a grim setting of his teeth.
"I have much to say to you. Sit back farther in your chair and don't stare at me so."
His tones were fretful, like those of a man sick of living, yet trying to live. He dropped his chin into the palm of his hand and lapsed into a meditative gloom.
Virginia leaned back, but only in this did she obey, for her eyes were still centered on the man in silent attention. She had little awe of him within her buoyant young soul, but much curiosity lay under the level, penetrating glance she bent upon her father. Here was a man who, according to all the human laws of which Virginia had ever heard, belonged to her, and to her alone. There were no other children and no mother. Yet so little did she know of him that she wouldn't have recognized him had she met him in the road. Singleton's uneasy glance, seeking the yellow, licking flames in the grate, crossed hers.
"I told you not to stare at me so, child!" he repeated.
This time the violet eyes wavered just for an instant, then fastened their gaze once more upon the speaker.
"I don't remember how you look," she stammered, "and I'd like to know. I can't tell if I don't look, can I?"
Her grave words, and possibly the steady, piercing gaze, brought a twitch to the father's lips. Surely his child had spoken the truth. He himself had almost forgotten he had a girl; that she was the only living creature who had a call upon the slender thread of his life. Had he lived differently, the girl in front of him would have been watching him for some other reason than curiosity.
"That's why I'm looking at you, sir," she explained. "If any one on the hills'd say, 'How's your father looking, Jinnie?' if I hadn't looked at you sharp, sir, how'd I know?"