ty. In babyhood the mind is
plastic; when one has grown to maturity, it is hard and unyielding. Man
makes _things_; woman makes _men_. Which is the greater work?"

Helen hesitated. "It seems very noble as you talk of it, to train a
child; but you know people don't feel that way. Mothers cuddle their
babies, to be sure, but men think caring for babies is beneath them.
They sneer at it as woman's work."

"Not all men, dear. Some of the great men of the world have spent years
in the study of infancy, realizing that to know how the baby develops
will enable them to understand better how to train it, and rightly to
train babies is in reality to make the nation."

Helen, leaning her head back on her father's shoulder, was silent for a
while, then she kissed him softly, saying, "Thank you, father dear. It
has been a beautiful talk together. I am sure it will help me to be a
better woman."

CHAPTER II.

"Well, daughter," said Mr. Wayne, as Helen and he were sitting by the
fire one Sabbath afternoon while Mrs. Wayne had gone to her room to
rest.

"Why,--" said Helen hesitatingly, "there is something I have been
thinking about, but I'm afraid you'll think it silly to ask you about
it. You'll think I ought to be able to decide it for myself."

"Nothing that is of enough importance to be a problem to my daughter is
silly to me. State your difficulty, and we'll see if we cannot clear it
away."

"Well, father, I'd like to know what you think about boys and girls
writing to each other. Of course, I don't mean the foolish notes they
send back and forth in school. I know that is silly, but I mean
correspond. You see, Paul Winslow and Robert Bates are going to move
away and they're asking the girls to correspond with them, and the girls
all say it will be great fun; but I don't know. You know, mother has
taught me that things that seem funny at one time don't seem so at
another, and I've been wondering if this is one of those things. When
Robert asked me if I'd write to him I said I'd ask mother, and he seemed
to get mad. He said if it was such a dangerous thing to correspond with
him that I had to ask my mother, he guessed I'd better not write to him.
I said I asked my mother about everything. And he said 'I suppose you
show her your letters,' and I said 'Of course,' and then he said he'd
excuse me from writing to him. The girls all said I was very foolish;
that it was perfectly right to correspond with boys you knew,