l the boy Pemberton after his own father.

Likewise the mother of the maiden in green now seated upon the tool-box
had longed for a daughter and aspired to name her Rose, in tender memory
of a dear college chum, a flower no longer blooming upon earth.

And when the little black-haired mite in due time came, when she opened
upon her father eyes blue as the empyrean he hoped to conquer, he had
cried out of a core of transport lurking in the very heart of
disappointment: "Oh! by Jove, I can't quite give up my dream: let's name
her Pemrose. If she had been a boy, I'd have called her Pem."

The young mother blissfully agreed--and did not live long to call her
anything.

Grown to girlhood, the sprite of the laboratory, who had looked through
a spectroscope at seven, clapping her small hands over the fairy
colors--pure red, orange, green, blue, violet, separated by little dark,
thread-like lines, each representing some element in that far-away upper
air which her father hoped to master--preferred for herself the boyish
Pem to the oft-worn Rose.

But in order to square accounts with what she called the "betty" element
in her, she evened things up on becoming a Camp Fire Girl by choosing a
name all feminine wherewith to be known by the Council Fire.

Wantaam, signifying Wisdom--a Wise Woman--was the title she bore as one
who wore the Fire Maker's bracelet upon her wrist and had pledged
herself to tend as her fathers had tended and her fathers' fathers since
time began, that inner, mystic flame which has lit man's way to progress
from the moment when he forged a bludgeon to conquer his own world,
until, to-day, when he was inventing a Bird to invade others.

And it was that Wise Woman who spoke now; she, of all others, who knew
the secret of the magic Thunder Bird; and who, trustworthy to the core,
had "kept it dark."

"Oh! if I've 'plugged' hard in the past over those fierce first
principles of mechanics, electricity, optics, heat and the rest--and
those 'grueling' laws of gravitation--that's just nothing, a scantling
compared to the way I'm going to study and make a hit when I get on into
college," she cried; "so--so that, some day, I can, really, work with
you, Toandoah--you record-breaking inventor--oh! dearest father ever
was."

Laughingly, passionately she flung an arm around the neck of the man in
the long, drab laboratory coat, half strangling him as he bent over the
two-foot model rocket, testing it with his so