endid
father! I often used to think out what kind of a father I would like
if I could choose one, but I never thought out just such a combination
of delightful qualities as I find in him."

"It's like a story, isn't it? And we'll all live happily ever after.
Shall we go in and see the rest, Richard? They'll be wanting to see
you too."

"Let's go over here and sit down. I don't want to see the rest quite
yet, little one. Why, Betty, do you suppose I can let go of you yet?"

"No," said Betty, meekly, and again Richard laughed. She lifted the
hair from his temple and touched the old scar.

"Yes, it's there, Betty. I'm glad he hit me that welt. I would have
pushed him over but for that. I deserved it."

"You're not so like him--not so like as you used to be. No one would
mistake you now. You don't look so much like yourself as you used
to--and you've a lot of white in your hair. Oh, Richard!"

"Yes. It's been pretty tough, Betty, dear,--pretty tough. Let's talk
of something else."

"And all the time I couldn't help you--even the least bit."

"But you were a help all the time--all the time."

"How, Richard?"

"I had a clean, sweet, perfect, innocent place always in my heart
where you were that kept me from caring for a lot of foolishness that
tempted other men. It was a good, sweet, wholesome place where you sat
always. When I wanted to see you sitting there, I had only to take a
funny little leather housewife, all worn, and tied with cherry-colored
hair ribbons, in my hand and look at it and remember."

Betty sighed a long sigh of contentment and settled herself closer in
his arms. "Yes, I was there, and God heard me praying for you.
Sometimes I felt myself there."

"In the secret chamber of my heart, Betty, dear?"

"Yes." They were silent for a while, one of the blessed silences which
make life worth living. Then Betty lifted her head. "Tell me about
Paris, Richard, and what you did there. It was Peter who was wild to
go and paint in Paris and it was you who went. That was why no one
found you. They never thought that of you--but I would have thought
it. I knew you had it in you."

"Oh, yes, after a fashion I had it in me."

"But you said you met with success. Did that mean you were admitted to
the Salon?"

"Yes, dear."

"Oh, Richard! How tremendous! I've read a lot about it. Oh, Richard!
Did you like the 'Old Masters'?"

"Did I! Betty, I learned a thing about your father, looking at the
work of so