s. All
the structures were rude, masculine, utilitarian, and the girl grew
each moment in delicacy and refinement by contrast.

In answer to her halloo a plainly clad man came to the door, his face
set in amazement.

"Why--see here--daughter! I wasn't looking for you to-day."

"I'm here just the same," she laughingly replied. "Here are some
telegrams. Professor Serviss, this is my father."

Joseph Lambert was a small man, with shy, blue eyes and a low and
gentle utterance. He carried his head leaning a little to the left and
seemed a shade discouraged, almost melancholy. He was, however, a
brave, silent, tireless little man, who had made one great fortune in
silver-mines only to lose it in the panic. He was now cannily working
a vein which had a streak of gold in it, and, like all miners, was
just on the point of making a "strike." He was distracted with work,
and, though cordial, could not at the moment give much time to his
visitor.

"Well, now, Viola, you take Professor Serviss into the cook-house and
feed him. I guess you'll find something left over. If not, you will
have to scratch up something."

Viola thereupon led the way into the kitchen, greeting each man she
met, cooks and waiters alike, with impartial, clear-eyed joyousness
and trust, and when the food came on she ate without grimace or
hesitation. The cook, a big, self-contained Chinaman, came in with a
china cup.

"Use this klup--tin klup no good for lady." His voice was gruff and
his manner that of one who compels a child to use a napkin; but it
was plain he adored her. As she thanked him he shuffled away with an
irrepressible grin.

All this produced in Serviss an uneasiness. To him she was a lamb
venturing among wolves. "She should not expose herself to the coarse
comment, the seeking eyes of these fellows," he indignantly commented,
blaming the acquiescent mother and the absent-minded step-father.
"This childlike trust is charming, but it is not war."

Her essential weakness of defence, her innocence, began to move him
deeply, dangerously. He began to understand how she had turned to
Clarke for companionship, not merely because he was a clergyman, but
because he was a young man of more than usual culture and attainment,
whose sympathy and counsel promised aid and comfort in her loneliness.
"She does not love him; she merely admires certain sides of his
character; she fears to marry him, and quite properly. His morbid
faith would destroy he