o see something that is alive."

"The whole world would adore you could it see you as I just have!"

Then Travers, with the artist's eye, wondered how dark hair could
possibly hold such golden tints, and how such a dark face could make
lovely the blue, richly lashed eyes. He knew she must be from Lonely
Farm--Jerry-Jo used to speak of her; lately he had said nothing, to be
sure, but this certainly must be the child who had once cried over a
book of his. Poor, little, temperamental beggar!

"Come up and deliver!" Travers gave a laugh. "I'm Robin Hood and I want
you to explain yourself. Why do you bow down before that brazen and
evil-looking brute?"

Priscilla hugged her knees in her clasped hands, and said, on the
defence:

"He's the only god that answered my prayer. I tried father's God and--it
didn't work! Then I fixed up this one, and--it did!"

"What was it you wanted?"

"I wanted to learn things! I wanted to go to school. I prayed to have
father's heart softened, but it stayed--rocky. Then I began to worship
this"--the right hand waved toward the bleached and grinning skull--"and
my wish came true. I told the schoolmaster. Do you know Mr. Anton
Farwell?"

"I've heard of him."

"I told him I wanted to learn, and after he got through laughing he said
he'd been sent by my god to teach me all I wanted to know; but of course
he can't do that!"

"Do what?" Travers was fascinated by the child's naivety.

"Teach me all I want to know. Why, I'm going to suffer and know many
things!"

"Good Lord!" ejaculated Travers; "you won't mind if I laugh?"

"I don't think there's anything to laugh at!" Priscilla held him sternly.
"Have you ever suffered?"

The laugh died from Travers's face.

"Suffered!" he repeated. "Yes! yes!"

"Well, doesn't it pay--when you get what you want and know things?"

"Why, see here, youngster--it does! You've managed to dig out of your
life quite a brilliant philosophy, though I suppose you do not know what
that is. It's holding to your ideal, the thing that seems most worth
while, and forcing everything else into line with that. Now, you see I
had a bad handicap--a clutch on me that made me a weak, sickly fellow,
but through it all I kept my ideal."

Priscilla was listening bravely. She was following this thought as she
had the music; something in her was responding. She did not speak, and
Travers went on talking, more to himself than to her.

"Always before the poor thing I reall