ks like such a strong man."

"And now you think you have discovered the feet of clay?"

"Well, it seemed quite strange, Daddy."

"I'll tell you one thing, girly," he said. "Never make the fatal error of
thinking any one is perfect. It is a mistake that young people are rather
apt to indulge in. There are little weak points, and sometimes big ones,
in all of us."

"I suppose so," I assented, "but these were such dreadful things he told
us about. It seems so terrible that they should happen at all. It has
made me feel unhappy. I thought that doctors got used to such things."

"There are a lot of things a fellow never gets used to, my dear,"
answered Daddy. "This one is young yet, but he will probably never get
over the sense of rebellion which comes over a man, a real man, who finds
himself butting his head against stupidity and ignorance. Don't you make
any mistake about that fellow Grant! The poorest kind of chap is the one
who is always letting things slide. This is a tough, square-jawed,
earnest chap, of the sort who put their hearts and souls into things,
right or wrong. The man who has never felt or shown weakness is a
contemptible egotist. The cocksure fools always have perfect faith in
themselves. Those two men, the big and the little one, are both pretty
fine specimens, and in their own ways they are equally strong. They're
made of the right stuff."

I don't exactly know why, but I felt greatly pleased. Daddy is a mighty
keen man of the world, and his judgment of others has been one of his
great assets.

"I wish we could help too, Daddy," I told him.

"We may, if we find a way," he answered. "I'm going to investigate the
matter."

When Daddy says he is to investigate, something is going to drop, with a
dull thud. At least that's the way Harry Lawrence puts it. By the way,
Aunt Jennie, what has become of him, and why hasn't he written to me?

Your loving
HELEN.

CHAPTER X

_From John Grant's Diary_

I slept rather late, this morning, and came out of the house feeling very
fit. Had it not been for my blistered hands nothing would have remained
to show what a hard pull we had yesterday, excepting the unpleasant
feeling that I made rather a donkey of myself last evening. My only
excuse, and a mighty poor one, is that I was rather played out and
developed a silly grouch.

I had only gone a little way when I met Mrs. Barnett. She came towards me
with her hand outstretched, smiling in her usua