, but I suppose it's to be expected when
you've only lived with niggers.... Now will you remember something if
I tell it to you?"

"Yes, sir," breathed Virginia, drawing back a little from his strong
emotion.

"Well, this! Don't ever say 'sir' to any human being living! Don't
ever! Do you understand me? What I mean is, when you say 'sir,' it's
as if you were--as if you were a servant or afraid--you make yourself
menial. Can you remember, child?"

"Yes, sir,--yes, I'll remember.... I _think_ I'll remember."

"If you're going to accomplish anything in the world, don't be afraid
of any one."

A dozen explanations, like so many birds, fluttered through Virginia's
mind. Before her rose her world of yesterday, and a sudden apology
leapt to her lips. She turned on her father a wondering, sober
glance.

"I've never said 'sir' or 'ma'am' before in all my life--never!" she
remarked.

"So you're afraid of me?"

"A little," she sighed.

"Ah, don't be, child! I'm your father. Will you keep that in mind?"

"I'll try to; I will, sure."

Mr. Singleton shifted uneasily, as if in pain.

"This money is coming to you when you're eighteen years old,"
explained Mr. Singleton. "My dying will throw you into an ocean of
difficulties. I guess the only service I've ever done you has been to
keep your Uncle Jordan from you."

"Matty told me about him, too," she offered. "He's a damn bad duffer,
isn't he, mister?"

"Yes, and I'm going to ask you not to call me 'mister,' either. Look
here!... I'm your father! Can't anything get that into your head?"

"I keep forgetting it," answered the girl sadly. "And you're so big
and thin and different from any man I know. You look as weak as a--as
a cat."

She stretched forth her two strong legs, but sank back.

"Yes, your Uncle Jordan is bad," proceeded Singleton, presently, "bad
enough to want to get us both out of the way, and he wouldn't find
much of an obstacle in you."

A clammy chill clutched at Virginia's heart like tightening fingers.
The import of his words burned deep within her. She got to her
feet--but reseated herself at once at a wave of her father's hand. The
thought of death always had a sobering effect upon her--it filled her
with longing, yet dread. The beautiful young mother, whose picture
hung in the best room, and whose eyes followed her in every direction,
was dead. Matty had told her many times just how her mother had gone,
and how often the gentle spirit had re