y, roving
over her plans for the children. For in Roger's look of suspense she
plainly read that other plans had been made for them in her absence.
"Deborah's in this!" flashed through her mind. "Tell me what it will mean,"
she said.

"I'm afraid you'll have to try to do without your nurse for a while."

"Let Hannah go? Oh, father!" And Edith flushed with quick dismay. "How can
I, dad? Five children--five! And two of them so little they can't even
dress themselves alone! And there are all their meals--their baths--and the
older ones going uptown to school! I can't let them go way uptown on the
'bus or the trolley without a maid--"

"But, Edith!" he interrupted, his face contracting with distress. "Don't
you see that they can't go to school?" She turned on him. "Uptown, I mean,
to those expensive private schools."

"Father!" she demanded. "Do you mean you want my children to go to common
public schools?" There was rage and amazement upon her pretty countenance,
and with it an instant certainty too. Yes, this was Deborah's planning! But
Roger thought that Edith's look was all directed at himself. And for the
first time in his life he felt the shame and humility of the male provider
no longer able to provide. He reddened and looked down at his plate.

"You don't understand," he said. "I'm strapped, my child--I can't help
it--I'm poor."

"Oh. Oh, dad. I'm sorry." He glanced up at his daughter and saw tears
welling in her eyes. How utterly miserable both of them were.

"It's the war," he said harshly and proudly. This made a difference to his
pride, but not to his daughter's anxiety. She was not interested in the
war, or in any other cause of the abyss she was facing. She strove to think
clearly what to do. But no, she must do her thinking alone. With a sudden
quiet she rose from the table, went around to her father's chair and kissed
him very gently.

"All right, dear--I see it all now--and I promise I'll try my best," she
said.

"You're a brave little woman," he replied.

But after she had gone, he reflected. Why had he called her a brave little
woman? Why had it all been so intense, the talk upon so heroic a plane? It
would be hard on Edith, of course; but others were doing it, weren't they?
Think of the women in Europe these days! After all, she'd be very
comfortable here, and perhaps by Christmas times would change.

He shook off these petty troubles and went to his office for the day.

* *