d;
her large, blue eyes and light hair giving promise of a comeliness
which would closely approximate that of her mother, while her mential
traits indicated a clear and intelligent mind. Mrs. Gerhardt had
become very fond of her. Gerhardt had unbended so gradually that his
interest was not even yet clearly discernible, but he had a distinct
feeling of kindliness toward her. And this readjustment of her
father's attitude had aroused in Jennie an ardent desire to so conduct
herself that no pain should ever come to him again. Any new folly on
her part would not only be base ingratitude to her father, but would
tend to injure the prospects of her little one. Her life was a
failure, she fancied, but Vesta's was a thing apart; she must do
nothing to spoil it. She wondered whether it would not be better to
write Lester and explain everything. She had told him that she did not
wish to do wrong. Suppose she went on to inform him that she had a
child, and beg him to leave her in peace. Would he obey her? She
doubted it. Did she really want him to take her at her word?

The need of making this confession was a painful thing to Jennie.
It caused her to hesitate, to start a letter in which she tried to
explain, and then to tear it up. Finally, fate intervened in the
sudden home-coming of her father, who had been seriously injured by an
accident at the glass-works in Youngstown where he worked.

It was on a Wednesday afternoon, in the latter part of August, when
a letter came from Gerhardt. But instead of the customary fatherly
communication, written in German and inclosing the regular weekly
remittance of five dollars, there was only a brief note, written by
another hand, and explaining that the day before Gerhardt had received
a severe burn on both hands, due to the accidental overturning of a
dipper of molten glass. The letter added that he would be home the
next morning.

"What do you think of that?" exclaimed William, his mouth wide
open.

"Poor papa!" said Veronica, tears welling up in her eyes.

Mrs. Gerhardt sat down, clasped her hands in her lap, and stared at
the floor. "Now, what to do?" she nervously exclaimed. The possibility
that Gerhardt was disabled for life opened long vistas of difficulties
which she had not the courage to contemplate.

Bass came home at half-past six and Jennie at eight. The former
heard the news with an astonished face.

"Gee! that's tough, isn't it?" he exclaimed. "Did the letter say
ho