their lessons and gave them their tasks for the
next day. He seemed to know everything and had a way of making one
understand very difficult matters such as fractions and irregular
French verbs. In the afternoon came the music lessons. He was anxious
for them both to play well upon the violin, for he said that it had
been to him one of the greatest joys of his life. Each night before
bedtime he used to play for them himself and make her see finer
pictures than even those she found in her fairy tales. But there were
other times when he could make his violin terrible. He used to punish
Ben in this way. When the latter had been over wilful, he made the boy
stand before him. Then taking a position in front of him, he played
things so wild, so fearful, that the boy would beg for mercy.

"Do you wish your soul to be like that?" he would demand sternly.

"No, father, no," Ben would whimper.

"Then you must control yourself. If ever you lose a grip upon yourself
in temper or anything else, it will be like that."

But the music even at such times never frightened her, though it
sounded very savage, like the wind through the trees in a thunder storm.

The only time that he had ever seemed the slightest bit angry at her
was once during that wonderful summer when he had taken them abroad.
She was seventeen, and on the boat she met a man with whom she fell in
love. He was very much older than she, and possessed a glorious
mustache which turned up at the corners. He helped her up and down the
deck one day when the wind was blowing, and that night she lay awake
thinking about him. When she appeared in the morning with her eyes
heavy and her thoughts far away, the father put his arm about her and
escorted her to the stern of the boat. Then sitting down beside her,
he said,

"Tell me what is on your mind, little girl."

She told him quite simply, and had been surprised to see his face grow
white and terrible.

"He put those thoughts into your heart?"

He rose to his feet and started towards the saloon. She knew what he
was about to do. She flung her arms around his knees and, sobbing,
pleaded with him until he stayed. Then after she had calmed a little,
he talked to her and she listened as though to a stranger.

"Little girl," he cried fiercely, "there is much that you do not
understand, and much that I pray God you never will understand. One of
these things is the nature of man. If it were not for all the