It is natural for men to love power, isn't it?"

"I suppose so," said Mr. Flint, uneasily. "I don't know what you're
driving at, Victoria."

"You control the lives and fortunes of a great many people."

"That's just it," answered Mr. Flint, with a dash at this opening; "my
responsibilities are tremendous. I can't relinquish them."

"There is no--younger man to take your place? Not that I mean you are
old, father," she continued, "but you have worked very hard all your
life, and deserve a holiday the rest of it."

"I don't know of any younger man," said Mr. Flint. "I don't mean to say
I'm the only person in the world who can safeguard the stockholders'
interests in the Northeastern. But I know the road and its problems. I
don't understand this from you, Victoria. It doesn't sound like you. And
as for letting go the helm now," he added, with a short laugh tinged with
bitterness, "I'd be posted all over the country as a coward."

"Why?" asked Victoria, in the same quiet way.

"Why? Because a lot of discontented and disappointed people who have made
failures of their lives are trying to give me as much trouble as they
can."

"Are you sure they are all disappointed and discontented, father?" she
said.

"What," exclaimed Mr. Flint, "you ask me that question? You, my own
daughter, about people who are trying to make me out a rascal!"

"I don't think they are trying to make you out a rascal--at least most of
them are not," said Victoria. "I don't think the--what you might call the
personal aspect enters in with the honest ones."

Mr. Flint was inexpressibly amazed. He drew a long breath.

"Who are the honest ones?" he cried. "Do you mean to say that you, my own
daughter, are defending these charlatans?"

"Listen, father," said Victoria. "I didn't mean to worry you, I didn't
mean to bring up that subject to-day. Come--let's go for a walk and see
the new barn."

But Mr. Flint remained firmly planted on the bench.

"Then you did intend to bring up the subject--some day?" he asked.

"Yes," said Victoria. She sat down again. "I have often wanted to hear
--your side of it."

"Whose side have you heard?" demanded Mr. Flint.

A crimson flush crept into her cheek, but her father was too disturbed to
notice it.

"You know," she said gently, "I go about the country a good deal, and I
hear people talking,--farmers, and labourers, and people in the country
stores who don't know that I'm your daughter."

"What do the