drifting aimlessly upon the sea of domesticity. Unhesitatingly, she had assumed the vacant command which carried with it the mothering of Virginia.

In the early months of his bereavement, Obadiah Dale gave some attention to the establishment which he had created for his wife’s enjoyment. Yet all things followed a well managed routine and, more important than all to a man of his nature, the monthly bills evidenced economical judgment. Quick to recognize a valuable subordinate, Obadiah saw no necessity for immediate change.

Serena had excellent ideas in child training. Although in her mind Virginia was a young lady of position who could properly demand appropriate attention, yet must she learn to meet the responsibilities of her station.

Obadiah was assured that his daughter in Serena’s charge was in the care of one who loved her. From time to time he made vague plans for the child’s future. As they were to commence at an indefinite time they never materialized. More and more the business activities of the manufacturer occupied his time, and slowly but surely the duty of Virginia’s upbringing was shifted to the negro woman.

When Virginia was five, Serena told her employer, “Dis yere chil’ orter be in school a learnin’ mo’ an’ ah kin teach her,” and so the mill owner’s daughter was started upon her scholastic career at a kindergarten.

Obadiah never knew the worries of this illiterate negro woman in planning suitable clothing for his child. No man could appreciate that watchful eye ever ready to copy styles and materials from the garments of children of families deemed worthy as models.

Virginia’s education was continued under the guidance of a Miss Keen who conducted a select school for young ladies in South Ridgefield. This institution, highly esteemed as a seat of learning by Serena, offered courses usually terminating when pupils refused longer to attend the establishment. In its most prosperous years its enrollment never exceeded twenty misguided maidens.

Now, Virginia had arrived at the age of eighteen, a serious, rather shy girl, whose youth had been spent under the supervision of an old negro woman, narrowed by the influence of a small school and neglected by a busy father.

When Obadiah came home that night for dinner, she met him in the hall. He was a very tall man and extremely thin. His sharp features gave a shrewd expression and his smooth shaven face displayed a cruel mouth and an obstinate jaw.

“Hello, Daddy dear,” cried the girl as she held up her mouth to be kissed. She gave a happy little laugh when he pinched her cheek, and demanded of him, “What day is this?”

“Tuesday,” he answered indifferently, “the tenth of June.”

“Can’t you think of anything else?”

He looked puzzled. “It’s not a holiday, is it?”

“No, but it’s my birthday, Daddy dear.”

He displayed some interest now. “Is that so? How old are you today?”

“I am eighteen,” she explained proudly. “Serena made me a cake with candles. She brought it in at lunch. She said it might bother you, tonight.” She looked up at him quickly. “Do you love me, Daddy?”

“Surely,” he answered absently and shaking his iron grey head he ascended the stairs to prepare for dinner, muttering, “Time flies–how time flies.”

He joined his daughter again in the dining room in response to the gong. Serena had planned the meal with due regard to the fact that the day had been warm. A lobster, magnificent in its gorgeousness, reposed upon a bed of lettuce on the platter before Obadiah. A potato salad flanked it and a dish of sliced tomatoes reflected the color scheme of the crustacean. Dainty rolls, Serena’s pride, peeped from the folds of a napkin and the ice clinked refreshingly in the tall tumblers of tea as they were stirred.

Sometimes Virginia and her father chatted, but there were long silences. At intervals, Serena, noiselessly in spite of her weight, appeared to replenish or change a dish and to see that all things were in order.

As they waited for the table to be cleared for dessert, the girl said wistfully, “I wish that I could help somebody, Daddy.”

He looked at her curiously. “What ever put that into your head? You are a help to me sitting there and smiling at me.”

“Oh, but that’s not much. To sit at a table and smile and eat good things only helps oneself.”

“Well, why should you want to help anybody but you and me?”

She gazed at him thoughtfully. “Don’t joke, Daddy. I know I would be happier if I could do something for some one.”

Obadiah chuckled. “Where did you get that idea? I am perfectly happy tonight, and I haven’t bothered myself about other people.”

“The very idea. All this livelong day you have been planning for those who work in your mill.”

A sudden light came to him, he chuckled again. “Surely, I look after my employees or they would look after me.”

“That makes you happy.” Virginia was certain that she had made her point.

“No,” Obadiah shook his head vigorously, “my employees make me angry more than they make me happy. My happiness is the result of my own efforts.”

“That is what I mean, Daddy. You have had such great opportunities to make yourself happy.” She viewed him with eyes of fond admiration. “You have accomplished so much.”

Obadiah was filled with a comfortable egotism. “I have accomplished a whole lot,” he boasted. His mind was upon his commercial success and the wealth he had accumulated. “I’m not through,” he bragged. He became thoughtful as he dwelt upon certain fertile fields awaiting his financial plough. His jaw set. He had rivals who would contest his tillage. He would fight as he had always fought. His eyes glistened beneath his shaggy brows as he sensed the fray.

The conversation languished as they ate their dessert, but Obadiah’s pride of accomplishment had not departed. “I am going to do bigger things than ever before,” he exulted. “When you are older you will realize what I have done for you,” he explained as they went out on the porch.

For a time the girl and the old man followed their own thoughts while the fire-flies sparkled and gleamed about the lawn as if they were the flashlights of a fairy patrol. Emma Virginia was thinking of her father’s words. He was going to do more for her. She must certainly share her blessings.

“Daddy dear, do you mind if I help some one?” she asked gently.

“Back on that?” he demanded with a note of sharpness.

She gave an emphatic little nod. “It is very important. I–I–can’t tell you now, why,” she hesitated. “I should feel much better, though.”

“You are not sick, are you?” Obadiah worried.

“Oh, no indeed, perfectly well. Only, I am sure that I would be much happier if I could do something for someone else. I don’t know whom. That doesn’t make any difference.”

“What a strange idea!” It seemed to bother Obadiah. “You want to help someone but you don’t know whom.” He considered a moment. “Here’s my advice. Help somebody who can help you.”

“Now you are teasing me, Daddy?” she protested. “I am really serious about this. I want to be of more use in the world.” Her voice was very soft and gentle now. “I know that I should share my blessings and I want to do it. It is such a comfort to talk things over with you, Daddy dearest.” She moved quietly over to him and seated herself upon his lap.

As she touched him, he jumped. “Gracious, you startled me so, Virginia. I was asleep.”

“Please, Daddy, don’t mind,” she whispered, “I’ll be quiet as a