that a Southerner is lord of the soil, but as she
developed, the fact was forced home upon her that her father was not
materialistic, and that ways and means were.

Twice yearly their Kentucky estate yielded an income. As soon as she
understood affairs, Sue took a stand which could not be shaken, even if
the easy-going mooning colonel had exerted himself to that extent. She
insisted upon using one-half the yearly income for household expenses;
the other the colonel could fritter away as he chose upon his
racing-stable and his secondary hobby--an utterly absurd stamp
collection.

Only each household knows how it meets the necessity of living. It is
generally the mother and daughter, if there be one, who comprise the
inner finance committee. Men are only Napoleons of finance when the
market is strong and steady. When it becomes panicky and fluctuates and
resolves itself into small unheroic deals, woman gets the job. For the
world is principally a place where men work for the pleasures and
woman has to cringe for the scraps. It may seem unchivalrous, but true
nevertheless.

Only Sue knew how she compelled one dollar to bravely do the duty of
two. Appearances are never so deceitful as in the household where want
is apparently scorned. Sue was of the breed who, if necessary, could
raise absolute pauperism to the peerage. And if ever a month came in
which she would lie awake nights, developing the further elasticity of
currency, certainly her neighbors knew aught of it, and her father least
of all.

The colonel recommenced his pacing. Sue, hands clasped around knees,
watched him with steady, unwinking eyes.

"It's not the deviled crab, daddy," she said quietly, at length. "It's
something else. 'Fess up. You're in trouble. I feel it. Sit down there
and let me go halves on it. Sit down."

Colonel Desha vaguely passed a hand through his hair, then, mechanically
yielding to the superior strength and self-control of his daughter,
eased himself into an opposite armchair.

"Oh, no, you're quite wrong, quite wrong," he reiterated absently. "I'm
only tired. Only tired, girlie. That's all. Been very busy, you know."
And he ran on feverishly, talking about Waterbury, weights, jockeys,
mounts--all the jargon of the turf. The dam of his mind had given way,
and a flood of thoughts, hopes, fears came rioting forth unchecked,
unthinkingly.

His eyes were vacant, a frown dividing his white brows, the thin hand on
the table closing