a proud man's heart
must be touched if day by day he meets the little girl upon the street,
sees her growing out of babyhood into childhood, a sweet, bright,
lovable child, and he yearns for something sincere, something that has
no poses, something that will love him for himself. So he swallows a
lump of pride as large as his handsome head, and drives to the school
house to see his child--and is denied. In the Captain's household they
do not know what that means. For in the Captain's household which
includes a six room house--not counting the new white painted bathroom,
the joint product of the toil of the handsome Miss Morton and the eldest
Miss Morton, and not counting the basket for the kitten christened
Epaminondas, and maintained by the youngest Miss Morton over family
protests--in the Captain's household there is peace and joy, if one
excepts the numbing fear of a "step" that sometimes prostrates the
eldest Miss Morton and her handsome sister; a fear that shelters their
father against the wily designs of their sex upon a meek and defenseless
and rather obliging gentleman. So they cannot put themselves in the
place of the rich and powerful neighbors next door. The Mortons hear the
thorns crackling under the pot, but they cannot appreciate the heat.

And now we come to the last picture.

It is still an evening in May!

"Well, how is the missionary to South Harvey," chirrups the Doctor as he
mounts the steps, and sees his daughter, waiting for him on the veranda.
She looks cool and fresh and beautiful. Her eyes and her skin glow with
health and her face beams upon him out of a soul at peace.

"She's all right," returns the daughter, smiling. "How's the khedive of
Greeley county?"

As the Doctor mounts the steps she continues: "Sit down, father--I've
something on my mind." To her father's inquiring face she replied, "It's
Lila. Her father has been after her again. She just came home crying as
though her little heart would break. It's so pitiful--she loves him;
that is left over from her babyhood; but she is learning
someway--perhaps from the children, perhaps from life--what he has
done--and when he tries to attract her--she shrinks away from him."

"And he knows why--he knows why, Laura." The Doctor taps the floor
softly with his cane. "It isn't all gone--Tom's heart, I mean.
Somewhere deep in his consciousness he is hungering for affection--for
respect--for understanding. You haven't seen Tom's eyes recently?