wer tolerably well. What are these weighty
problems?" drawing his daughter to his knee as he spoke.

"That's it," pouted Helen. "You always make fun,--mother doesn't."

"Pardon me, daughter, I had no intention of making fun. I only wanted
you to feel at home with me. It was a clumsy attempt, I'll admit, but
really and truly I would like to be in your confidence--to feel that you
trust me, too. I can't fill mother's place, I know, but I can do what
mother can't, I can give you the man's view of things, and that is
sometimes of great value for a girl to know."

"Yes," said Helen, snuggling down in her father's lap, for they were
great friends and she felt his sympathy. "I often wish we could know how
things look to other people. I know boys don't look at matters as girls
do, but we can't always tell just what they do think."

"That is true," replied Mr. Wayne, gravely. "I often think that if girls
knew just what boys say among themselves it would make them more careful
of their conduct.

"For instance, not long ago I was on a steamer where there was dancing.
I went into the smoking room, and there I heard the comments of the
young men. I am sure the girls had no idea how their dress, figures,
freedom and flirtatiousness were criticised and laughed at by these
young men, who seemed to them, doubtless, so very nice and polite. Of
course, these girls were mostly strangers to the young men and were
getting acquainted without introductions, probably thinking it fine
fun."

"Yes, father. I've heard some of the real nice girls talk about getting
acquainted in that way, and they seem to think it all right. Someway, it
never seemed quite nice to me."

"I hope not, my daughter. I should be sorry to have you form acquaintances
in that way. You never can tell what a man's character is by his clothes
or manners. Indeed, you may think you know a man pretty well, and yet be
mistaken. I suppose girls who are familiar with young men and allow
them liberties imagine that they are trustworthy. I sat in front of two
young men on a train not long ago. They appeared well and really were
nice, as boys go, but they had the usual boy's idea as to honor. They
were talking freely of the girls they knew, discussing their merits and
charms, saying that this one was soft and 'huggable,' that another was
sweet to kiss--"

"O, father!" exclaimed Helen, in a fury of surprise and anger. "They
didn't talk that way so that you could hear! And call