ately occupied. With head thrown back he listened, and
when silence fell at the close of the performance, his deep voice was
the first to break it.

"To me," he said, "that is the slow flowing and receding of waves upon a
smooth and rocky shore. The sky is gray, but the atmosphere is warm and
friendly. It is all very restful, after a day of perturbation."

"Oh, is it like that to you?" queried Roberta softly, out of the
darkness. "To me it's as if I were walking down the nave of a great
cathedral--Westminster, perhaps--big and bare and wonderful, with the
organ playing ever so far away. The sun is shining outside and so it's
not gloomy, only very peaceful, and one can't imagine the world at the
doors." She looked over at her mother, whose face was just visible in
the shaded light. "What is it to you, lovely lady?"

"It is a prayer," said her mother slowly, "a prayer for peace and purity
in a restless world, yet a prayer for service, too. The one who prays
lies very low, with his face concealed, and his spirit is full of
worship."

The light was put out; the three, father, mother, and daughter, came
together in the fading fire-glow. Roberta laid a warm young hand upon the
shoulder of each. "You dears," she said, "what fortunate and happy
children your four are, to be the children of you!"

Her father placed his firm fingers under her chin, lifting her face.
"Your mother and I," said he, "consider ourselves fairly fortunate and
happy to be the parents of you. You are an interesting quartette. 'Age
cannot wither nor custom stale' your 'infinite variety.' But age will
wither you if you often sit up to play Bach at midnight, when you must
teach school next day. Therefore, good-night, Namesake!"

Yet when she had gone, her father and mother lingered by the last embers
of the fire.

"God give her wisdom!" said Roberta's mother.

"He will--with you to ask Him," replied Roberta's father, with his arms
about his wife. "I think He never refuses you anything! I don't see how
He could!"

CHAPTER XI

"THE TAMING OF THE SHREW"

"School again, Rob! Don't you hate it?"

"No, of course I don't hate it. I'm much, much happier when I'm teaching
Ethel Revell to forget her important young self and remember the part
she is supposed to play, than I am when I am merely dusting my room or
driving downtown on errands."

As she spoke Roberta pushed into place the last hairpin in the close and
trim arrangement of her dark h