in waiting, and finally tore it up. "It will only give
him pain to know it," she thought, "and he has enough to bear." When she
next heard from him she realized more than ever how many lonely and
homesick hours he had to endure, and was glad she had kept her sorrow to
herself.

A few weeks later her father, thinking to make the house more cheerful,
proposed that her Aunt Mary--a widowed sister of his--should come and
live with them.

"No, father," said Liddy, after the matter had been discussed, "I would
rather be alone and take care of you myself." Then she added, with a
little quiver in her voice: "You are the only one I've got to love now
and perhaps the only one I shall ever have."

Liddy was essentially a home-loving girl and cared but little for
company. A few friends, and good ones, might be considered as the text
of her life, and even at school it had been the same. Her home duties
and her father's needs were a sufficient kingdom, and over it she was a
gracious queen. For the first three months after her mother's death she
and her father lived a life of nearly silent sadness. Almost daily he
visited the town, dreading far worse than Liddy ever knew lest he must
return with sad tidings. He knew what was ever in her heart, and as her
life-happiness was dear to him, he wasted no time in discussing war news
with his friends in the village. When June came Liddy felt that a change
in the morose current of their lives must be made, and in her peculiar
way set about to carry out her idea. She knew his fiftieth birthday came
during that month, and when the day arrived she said to him:

"Come home early to-night, father, I have a great, big favor to ask of
you." All that afternoon she worked at her little plot, and when tea
time came and he entered the house a surprise awaited him. The
dining-table had been moved into the sitting-room, set with the best
china, and in the center was a vase of flowers. Draped from the hanging
lamp above it, and extending to each corner were ropes of ground pine,
and around his plate was a double row of full-blown roses. It was a
pretty sight, and when he looked at it he smiled and said: "Expecting
company, Liddy?"

"Yes, you," was her answer; "and I've made a shortcake, and I picked
the strawberries myself."

When he was seated in his accustomed chair he looked at the array of
roses, and in a surprised voice remarked: "Why didn't you put some
around your own plate, Liddy?"

"Becaus