e, Andrew. You did perfectly right. She's likely to ask a good
many questions now that she's growing up."

"Oh," he cried despairingly, "she's already asked them! It's a
heartbreaking business, I tell you. Many a time when she's piped up in
our walks or at the table with some question about her father and mother
I've ignored it or feigned not to hear; but within the past year or two
I've had to fashion a background for her. I've surrounded her origin and
antecedents with a whole tissue of lies. But, Sally, it must have been
all right--I had Edna's own word for it!" he pleaded brokenly. "It must
have been all right!"

"Well, what if it wasn't! Does it make any difference about the girl?
All this mystery is a good thing; the denser the better maybe, as long
as there's any doubt at all. Your good name protects her; it's a good
name, Andrew. But go on; you may as well tell me the whole business."

"I've told you all I know; and as I've told it I've realized more than
before how pitifully little it is."

"Well, there's nothing to do about that. I've never seen any sense in
worrying over what's done. It's the future you've got to figure on for
Sylvia. So you think college is a good thing for girls--for a girl like
Sylvia?"

"Yes; but I want your opinion. You're the only person in the world I can
talk to; it's helped me more than I can tell you to shift some of this
burden to you. Maybe it isn't fair; you're a busy woman--"

"I guess I'm not so busy. I've been getting lazy, and needed a hard
jolt. I've been wondering a good deal about these girls' colleges. Some
of this new woman business looks awful queer to me, but so did the
electric light and the telephone a few years ago and I can even remember
when people were likely to drop dead when they got their first telegram.
Sylvia isn't"--she hesitated for an instant--"from what you say, Sylvia
isn't much like her mother?"

"No. Her qualities are wholly different. Edna had a different mind
altogether. There was nothing of the student about her. The only
thing that interested her was music, and that came natural to
her. I've studied Sylvia carefully,--I'm ashamed to confess how
carefully,--fearing that she would grow to be like her mother; but she's
another sort, and I doubt if she will change. You can already see the
woman in her. That child, Sally, has in her the making of a great woman.
I've been careful not to crowd her, but she has a wonderful mind,--not
the brilliant