ildren you'll know how
suddenly they demolish clothes. She wasn't well enough to do any
tailoring, so there was nothing to do but send Leonard forth in his big
brother's unchanged cast-offs."

Jane's anger had quite passed away before Dorn finished this simple,
ingenuous recital of poverty unashamed, this somehow fine laying open
of the inmost family secrets. "What a splendid person your sister must
be!" exclaimed she.

She more than liked the look that now came into his face. He said:
"Indeed she is!--more so than anyone except us of the family can
realize. Mother's getting old and almost helpless. My brother-in-law
was paralyzed by an accident at the rolling mill where he worked. My
sister takes care of both of them--and her two boys--and of me--keeps
the house in band-box order, manages a big garden that gives us most of
what we eat--and has time to listen to the woes of all the neighbors
and to give them the best advice I ever heard."

"How CAN she?" cried Jane. "Why, the day isn't long enough."

Dorn laughed. "You'll never realize how much time there is in a day,
Miss Jane Hastings, until you try to make use of it all. It's very
interesting--how much there is in a minute and in a dollar if you're
intelligent about them."

Jane looked at him in undisguised wonder and admiration. "You don't
know what a pleasure it is," she said, "to meet anyone whose sentences
you couldn't finish for him before he's a quarter the way through them."

Victor threw back his head and laughed--a boyish outburst that would
have seemed boorish in another, but came as naturally from him as song
from a bird. "You mean Davy Hull," said he.

Jane felt herself coloring even more. "I didn't mean him especially,"
replied she. "But he's a good example."

"The best I know," declared Victor. "You see, the trouble with Davy is
that he is one kind of a person, wants to be another kind, thinks he
ought to be a third kind, and believes he fools people into thinking he
is still a fourth kind."

Jane reflected on this, smiled understandingly. "That sounds like a
description of ME," said she.

"Probably," said Victor. "It's a very usual type in the second
generation in your class."

"My class?" said Jane, somewhat affectedly. "What do you mean?"

"The upper class," explained Victor.

Jane felt that this was an opportunity for a fine exhibition of her
democracy. "I don't like that," said she. "I'm a good American, and I
don'