“Hello, dad,” I said meekly, and helped Beryl out.  I wasn’t at all sure that I was glad to see him, just then.  Telling dad face to face was a lot different from telling him by telegraph.  I swallowed.

“Dad, let me introduce you to Miss—­Mrs. Beryl King—­that is, Carleton; my wife.”  I got that last word out plain enough, at any rate.

Dad stared.  For once I had rather floored him.  But he’s a thoroughbred, all right; you can’t feaze him for longer than ten seconds, and then only in extreme cases.  He leaned down over the rail and held out his hand to her.

“I’m very glad to meet you, Mrs. Beryl King—­that is, Carleton,” he said, mimicking me.  “Come up and give your dad-in-law a proper welcome.”

Beryl did.  I wondered how long it had been since dad had been kissed like that.  It made me gulp once or twice to think of all he had missed.

Frosty and Edith came up, then, and Edith shook hands with dad and I introduced Frosty.  Five minutes, there on the platform, went for explanations.  Dad didn’t say much; he just listened and sized up the layout.  Then he led us through the vestibule into the drawing-room.  And I knew, from the look of him, that we would get his verdict straight.  But it was a relief not to see his finger-tips together.

“Perry Potter wrote me something of all this,” he observed, settling himself comfortably in his pet chair.  “He said this young cub needed looking after, or King—­your father, Mrs. Carleton—­would have him by the heels.  I thought I’d better come and see what particular brand of—­er—­

“As for the motor, I might make shift to take it back myself, seeing Potter hasn’t got a rig here to meet me.  And if you’d like a little jaunt in the Shasta, you four, you’re welcome to her for a couple of weeks or so.  I’m not going back right away.  Ellis has done his da—­er—­is married and off my hands, so I can take a vacation too.  I can arrange transportation over any lines you want, before I start for the ranch.  Will that do?”

I guess he found that it would, from the way Edith and Beryl made for him.

Frosty glanced out of the window and motioned to me.  I looked, and we both bolted for the door, reaching it just as old King’s foot was on the lower step of the platform.  Weaver, looking like chief mourner at a funeral, was down below in his car.  King came up another step, glaring and evidently in a mood for war and extermination.

“How d’y’ do, King?” Dad greeted over my shoulder, before I could say a word.  He may not have had his finger-tips together, but he had the finger-tip tone, all right, and I knew it was a good man who would get the better of him.  “Out looking for strays?  Come right up; I’ve got two brand new married couples here, and I need some sane person pretty bad to help me out.”  There was the faintest possible accent on the sane.

Say, it was the finest thing I had ever seen dad do.  And it wasn’t what he said, so much as the way he said it.  I knew then why he had such, a record for getting his own way.