hat the things of the future are in the laps of the gods. Of
course, but I was merely asking for your personal opinion. I'm not
jesting now; that letter really aroused my interest in the child."

"Well, then, I believe that Smiles really possesses the strength of
purpose to go through with even so difficult a task as she has set for
herself. Remember, she comes of city stock, and hasn't the blood of
those unprogressive mountaineers in her veins."

"And you? Are you going to help her as she asks? What about your promise
to Big Jerry?"

"I lived up to both the spirit and letter of that, when I tried to
explain to the child the almost unsurmountable difficulties which lay
between her and the accomplishment of her dream. Besides, I know that
she has told the truth in her letter, and has somehow managed actually
to win over the old man. I can't help feeling mighty sorry for him, if
the foster birdling is really going to fly away from his nest after he
has reared and loved her so tenderly, but, after all, it is only the
history of the human race. Still, I can't blame him if he looks on me as
a serpent who stole into his simple Eden, carrying the apple of
discontent."

"There have been, of course, plenty of cases similar to this, where the
adventurer's spirit was really big enough and the vision strong enough
to carry him or her through to victory," mused Donald's father. "Such a
one was the immortal Abe Lincoln, who came from just such surroundings.
But the task is doubly hard for a young girl, and the experiment of thus
breaking away from the ties and traditions of many years, and seeking a
place in a wholly new, wholly dissimilar life, cannot but be fraught
with dangers. There, in that simple environment she naturally appealed
to you as not only an attractive child, but as a somewhat unusual
personality. Tell me, lad, how will, or would, she measure up, if
transplanted a few years hence into city life, where the standards of
comparison are so utterly different; so much more exacting?"

"Frankly, I don't know," responded Donald. "Since I read her letter I
have been asking myself that question, and the answer worries me, since
I feel in a way responsible for having opened the gates before her
untrained feet. Somehow I cannot disassociate little Rose from her
present environment, and, although she certainly _has_ an unusual charm
for such a child, I must admit that, in part, at least, it was the
result of--no, not that, b