present feelings."

Lucy raised her father's hand to her lips. She loved her mother, but she
adored him, with his slight stoop, his scholarly face, his gentle smile,
his kindly eyes. There were few men more beloved than Professor
Merriman. He had given some really great books to the world, and was a
scholar in the truest and best sense of the word. When he instructed
Lucy, which he did now and then, she regarded those moments as the
happiest and most sacred of her life.

"Well, whatever happens, I have got him," she thought as she turned to
go back to the house. "And if it adds any years to his precious life,
surely I can endure anything. But I do hope he won't get to like any of
those girls. Perhaps he will. Perhaps he will even offer to teach some
of them. I sincerely trust none of them are clever. Oh, who is this
queer little creature coming to meet me?"

The queer little creature in question, dressed in brown holland, with a
small brown hat and cotton gloves, was no other than Phyllis Flower. She
ran up to Lucy, and stood in front of her, and said, "Is your father
really the great Professor Ralph Merriman?"

"Yes," said Lucy, coloring and smiling, for it was delightful to her to
hear the appreciative tone in Phyllis's voice.

"I thought so, but I was not quite sure. Agnes Sparkes and I were
arguing about it. Agnes said it couldn't be, but I said it was. I am
very glad. I hope we shall see him sometimes."

"He is not well," said Lucy. "He can't be disturbed."

"We would none of us dream of disturbing him; but we would love to look
at him sometimes, and perhaps sometimes to hear him speak."

"I dare say you will see him. When he is well enough he will dine with
us," said Lucy. "But you must not expect"----

"Oh, we expect nothing--nothing certainly from you," said Phyllis
Flower, flushing angrily, for there was a tone in Lucy's voice which she
could scarcely stand. Then she, continued, "Why are you determined not
to be nice to us, Miss Merriman?"

"You had better call me Lucy," said the girl after a pause. "We are all
girls together. You are at school and I am at school."

"How old are you, Lucy?"

"I am fifteen."

"And I am thirteen and a half. How old do you think I look?"

"Oh, any age. You are so thin."

"And wizened," laughed Phyllis. "Well, never mind. I dare say I shall
grow tall enough by-and-by. Now, my dear," she continued after a pause,
"you have nothing whatever to be jealous of in me. I