oing to be your boy, are you going
to be as glad as you were that morning you bothered me when I was
digging my well?"

Judge Thorn hesitated a moment, but the clear gray eyes were upon him,
and he felt the justice of their plea.

"Yes, dear, I think so."

"And may I do just as you do when I get big--read books and make
speeches?"

Now Judge Thorn was not an advocate of the advanced sphere of women and
was not sure he wanted his daughter to be a lawyer, but after a short
reflection, perhaps thinking the request but the passing fancy of a
child, he gave his assent.

"Thank you, father," she responded gravely. "I think you are a very good
man." Then she kissed him and left the room.

He sat, still smiling, when her voice close to his side startled him
with the announcement:

"I think, father, if you do not care, I will not go into pants. I might
not feel at home, you know."

From the time that the little Jean had announced herself as her father's
boy, he took more interest in her; and as the child developed, he saw
unfolding the traits and abilities he had hoped to nurture in a son.
Intuitively she seemed to understand his moods and fancies, and as her
understanding developed, the books were a source of delight to her, and
many times she discussed knotty problems with her father in a way that
pleased him mightily.

So, as the years went by, she slipped into the place the father had
reserved for the son, and he loved her with a peculiarly tender love and
was never prouder of her than when he heard her say, in explanation of
her notions and her plans, "I am my father's boy."

On the particular night when Maggie Crowley was wandering about in the
storm, two young women occupied a handsome room in the Thorn home. A
cheerful wood fire burned on the hearth and the clear rays from an
overhanging light cast brightness over the rows of books that lined the
walls.

These were two people who minded not the winter weather. The cold wind
blowing through the gables and leafless trees held no terror for them.
Perhaps they rather liked to hear it as by way of comparison it made
their lot seem more comfortable.

The tall slender woman with black hair was examining alternately a
fashion book and a bunch of samples. She was Vivian, a pronounced
society lady.

The other sat in a low chair, by a small study table, reading, only
looking up now and then to answer some question put to her by her
sister. This was "my father's b