mpulses. She held her subtly-curved cheek up to the
other's strongly-marked face. "You just kiss me, Etta dear," she pleaded
softly, "and stop teasing."

Mrs. Mortimer looked long into the clear dark eyes with an unmoved
countenance. Then her face melted suddenly till she looked like her
mother. She put her arms about the girl with a fervent gesture of
tenderness. "Dear little Lydia," she murmured, with a quaver in her
voice.

CHAPTER III

PICKING UP THE THREADS

After she was alone she looked again at the miniature of Lydia. The
youthful radiance of the face had singularly the effect of a perfect
flower. Mrs. Mortimer glanced at the hat still drooping its wide brim
over the rose where Lydia had forgotten it, and stood still in a reverie
that had, from her aspect, something of sadness in it. After a moment
she sighed out, "Poor little Lydia!"

"What's the matter with Lydia?" asked someone behind her.

She turned and faced a dark, elderly personage, the robust dignity of
whose bearing was now tempered with shamefacedness. Mrs. Mortimer's face
sharpened in affectionate malice. "What are you doing here at this hour
of the morning?" she asked with a humorously exaggerated air of
amazement. "No self-respecting man is ever seen in his house during
business hours!" She went on, "Oh, I know well enough. You let Mother
have her first to make up for her being sick and not able to go to meet
her ship; but you can't stay away."

The Judge waved her raillery away with a smile. The physical resemblance
between father and daughter was remarkable. "I asked you what was the
matter with Lydia," he repeated.

Mrs. Mortimer's face clouded. "Oh, it's a hateful, horrid sort of world
we're all so eager to push her into. It's like a can full of angleworms,
everlastingly squirming and wriggling to get to the top. I was just
thinking that it would be better for her, maybe, if she could always
stay a little girl and travel 'round to see things."

"Why, Etta! I tell you _I'm_ glad to have Lydia get through with her
traveling 'round. Maybe I can see something of her if I hurry up and do
it now before your mother gets things going. I won't after that, of
course. I never have."

To this his daughter had one of her abrupt, disconcerting responses.
"You'd better hurry and do it before you get so deep in some important
trial that you wouldn't know Lydia from a plaster image. There are more
reasons than just Mother and card parties w