rn education. And I do believe he would rather have you forty than
sixteen."

"I am glad to be only sixteen," Helen returned with decision. "Life is a
splendid thing and youth is its garden of growth, and I am more than
satisfied to be still in the lovely garden."

She held her head up very straight, and the poise of her shoulders was
fine and vigorous. She would not be made old for anybody. She would not
hurry through any sweet year of her life.

"There will be some clashing," thought Mr. Warfield. "And I do believe
she will win."

"When did he come?" she asked presently. "And where has he been all
these years?"

"The last year in the British Museum. Before that buried in the ruins of
the lost cities of the Bible, read now by cylinders and tablet plates
and inscriptions on stone. Well, it _is_ wonderful to know so much, to
be able to reconstruct dead and gone ages. He reached here four or five
days ago and surprised the Mulfords; came over here and engaged board
when he heard you were on the eve of return; went up to New York and
reached here last night."

Of course, he might have written her a few words.

"And that wonderful old lady of yours is dead! Wouldn't it have been
queer if you had started for Europe? Oh, here we are!" and he opened the
gate.

Helen walked straight up the path, and the man pacing the porch paused
at the steps. He was tall and thin, with a bend in the shoulders, and
his clothes hung loosely on him. His face had a sort of shrunken look
and was much wrinkled, his beard was sparse and snowy white, and his
white hair was rather long with curling ends. He looked like an old
picture, but he was a gentleman every inch of him.

"Oh!" Helen exclaimed with a gasp.

He took both hands, looked her over from head to foot, then touched his
lips to her forehead.

[Illustration: He looked like an old picture, but he was a gentleman
every inch of him.--_Page 390._]

"You're not a bit like your mother," and Helen detected a sense of
relief in his tone.

Could he remember all these years? Almost a sob came up in her throat.
Yes, girl life had ended. "I am glad and thankful that I have you to
recall, happy, happy schooldays," she said to herself. "No one can take
that from me. Oh, Mrs. Van Dorn! I hope you know what all this has been
to me, what it will be in the years to come."

They were parent and child, but they had to begin life over, a new life
to her. His way was settled. Would hers have