He came stumbling into the room, guiding his way by the dim diffused light from the lightwell. "It's papa, darling. I come in to kiss you good night. I didn't mean to wake you up."
"You did though."
"I'm sorry, dear, I thought you was awake. I—" He paused, struggling for expression, glad of the dark that hid his ashen face. "There's a little matter I wanted to talk over with you. It's about the funeral money. I don't need it, I"
A sob came from Minnie. "Papa," she said, as his arms closed around her, "I won't do it, papa dear. I won't touch a cent of it."
"Sh-h-h, Minnie, don't let mama hear you."
They sat there in choked silence for several minutes, then she whispered in his ear which was wet with her tears. "Don't get it out of your sock, papa darlin', because I won't touch it. If I don't make good this time I'll work my fingers to the bone but I won't touch any more of that money. Kiss me good night," she added hastily when she heard the door in the front room slam and knew that Nettie was home. "I'm glad you came in here, papa darlin', it's comfortin' like it was when I was a kid."
Michael Flynn was in a feverish ecstasy after he left Minnie. His arms ached from the weight of her as they had ached so many years ago. His fingers traced her tears upon his face. Unconsciously he bent back his head so they could pocket in the hollow of his cheek. She had kissed him with such tenderness and she had called him "papa darlin'!"
Michael Flynn was a simple man and grateful for all blessings that came to him, so in the dark he kneeled before his cot, cautiously, so Jimmy wouldn't wake.
