Lola
by Owen Davis
“Father!” she called softly. “Father! It is morning!” He awoke, startled, for a moment rather bewildered, then added his smile to theirs, and said brightly, “I am very happy, Lola.” “I’m sure you haven’t any right to be, and, of course, you know that you ought to be scolded?” “Perhaps so,” he returned, looking with pride at a complicated electric apparatus on the table beside him, “but I have worked it all out! I am sure of it this time!” “Put that dreadful lamp out, and open the window!” called out Lola to Maria, as she started to pick up from the floor bits of broken glass and pieces of wire. “I do wish you would use the electric lights, father.