l. She would not embarrass her
father for anything in the world. But it was smart of Jefferson to
have sent Ryder, Sr., the book, so she smiled graciously on his
son as she asked:

"How do you know he got it? So many letters and packages are sent
to him that he never sees himself."

"Oh, he saw your book all right," laughed Jefferson. "I was around
the house a good deal before sailing, and one day I caught him in
the library reading it."

They both laughed, feeling like mischievous children who had
played a successful trick on the hokey-pokey man. Jefferson noted
his companion's pretty dimples and fine teeth, and he thought how
attractive she was, and stronger and stronger grew the idea within
him that this was the woman who was intended by Nature to share
his life. Her slender hand still covered his broad, sunburnt one,
and he fancied he felt a slight pressure. But he was mistaken. Not
the slightest sentiment entered into Shirley's thoughts of
Jefferson. She regarded him only as a good comrade with whom she
had secrets she confided in no one else. To that extent and to
that extent alone he was privileged above other men. Suddenly he
asked her:

"Have you heard from home recently?"

A soft light stole into the girl's face. Home! Ah, that was all
she needed to make her cup of happiness full. Intoxicated with
this new sensation of a first literary success, full of the keen
pleasure this visit to the beautiful city was giving her, bubbling
over with the joy of life, happy in the almost daily companionship
of the man she liked most in the world after her father, there was
only one thing lacking--home! She had left New York only a month
before, and she was homesick already. Her father she missed most.
She was fond of her mother, too, but the latter, being somewhat of
a nervous invalid, had never been to her quite what her father had
been. The playmate of her childhood, companion of her girlhood,
her friend and adviser in womanhood, Judge Rossmore was to his
daughter the ideal man and father. Answering Jefferson's question
she said:

"I had a letter from father last week. Everything was going on at
home as when I left. Father says he misses me sadly, and that
mother is ailing as usual."

She smiled, and Jefferson smiled too. They both knew by experience
that nothing really serious ailed Mrs. Rossmore, who was a good
deal of a hypochondriac, and always so filled with aches and pains
that, on the few occasions when