sat for his photograph. These things Sylvia proudly
spread upon the walls of her room. He wrote to her--a letter that cost
him a day's labor:--

"We don't seem to have any photograph of your father; but things
have a way of getting lost, particularly in the hands of an old
fellow like me. However, I have had myself taken as you wished, and
you can see now what a solemn person your grandfather is in his
_toga academica_. I had forgotten I had that silk overcoat and I am
not sure now that I didn't put the hood on wrong-side-out! I'm a
sailor, you know, and these fancy things stump me. The photographer
didn't seem to understand that sort of millinery. Please keep it
dark; your teachers might resent the sudden appearance in the halls
of Wellesley of a grim old professor _emeritus_ not known to your
faculty."

The following has its significance in Sylvia's history and we must give
it place--this also to her grandfather:--

"The most interesting lecture I ever heard (except yours!) was
given at the college yesterday by Miss Jane Addams, of Hull House,
the settlement worker and writer on social reforms. She's such a
simple, modest little woman that everybody loved her at once. She
made many things clear to me that I had only groped for before. She
used an expression that was new to me, 'reciprocal obligations,'
which we all have in this world, though I never quite thought of it
before. She's a college woman herself, and feels that all of us who
have better advantages than other people should help those who
aren't taught to climb. It seems the most practical idea in the
world, that we should gather up the loose, rough fringes of society
and weave the broken threads into a common warp and woof. The
social fabric is no stronger than its weakest thread. . . . To help
and to save for the sheer love of helping and saving is the noblest
thing any of us can do--I feel that. This must be an old story to
you; I'm ashamed that I never saw it all for myself. It's as though
I had been looking at the world through a blurred window, from a
comfortable warm room, when some one came along and brushed the
pane clear, so that I could see the suffering and hardship outside,
and feel my own duty to go out and help."

Professor Kelton, spending a day in the city, showed this to Mrs. Owen
whe