of God and I can tell you to a tee what he thinks of
women--eh?" The Captain dropped the hand for a moment and looked out of
the door into the alley.

"Well, Father, I agree with you in general about women but in particular
I don't care about Mrs. Herdicker and I wish Martha had another job,
though I suppose it's better than teaching school." The daughter sighed.
"Honest, father, sometimes when I've been on my feet all day, and the
children have been mean, and the janitor sticks his head in and grins,
so I'll know the superintendent is in the building and get the work off
the board that the rules don't allow me to put on, or one of the other
girls sends a note up to watch for my spelling for he's cranky on
spelling to-day, I just think, 'Lordee, if I had a job in some one's
kitchen, I'd be too happy to breathe.' But then--"

"Yes--yes, child--I know it's hard work now--but 'y gory, Emmy, when I
get this sprocket introduced and going, I'll buy you six superintendents
in a brass cage and let you feed 'em biled eggs to make 'em sing--eh?"
He smiled and patted his daughter's hair and rose to go back to work.
The girl plucked at his coat and said: "Now sit down, father, I want to
talk to you," she hesitated. "It's about Mr. Brotherton. You know he's
been coming out here for years and I thought he was coming to see me,
and now Martha thinks he comes to see her, and Martha always stays there
and so does Ruth, and if he is coming to see me--" she stopped. Her
father looked at her in astonishment. "Why, father," she went on,--"why
not? I'm twenty-five, and Martha's twenty-two and even Ruth is
seventeen--he might even be coming to see Ruth," she added bitterly.

"Yes, or Epaminondas--the cat--eh?" cut in the old man. Then he added,
indignantly, "Well, how about this singing Jasper Adams--who's he coming
to see? Or Amos--he comes around here sometimes Saturday night after G.
A. R. meeting, with me--what say? Would you want us all to clear out and
leave you the front room with him?" demanded the perturbed Captain.

Then the father put his arm about his child tenderly: "Twenty-five years
old--twenty-five years--why, girl, in my time a girl was an old maid
laid on the shelf at twenty-five--and here you are," he mused, "just
thinking of your first beau and here I am needing your mother worse than
I ever did in my life. Law-see' girl--how do I know what to do--what
say?" But he did know enough to draw her to him and kiss her and sig