r you said you hadn't the money--and then afterward
you turned in, real friendly, and raised me what I needed."

Lola exclaimed, "You were here in town on the Fourth of July? O papa!
Why didn't I see you? Oh--what--"

"You came near enough to seeing me," laughed Mr. Keene, "and to going
away with me, too! I'm glad things happened like they did. That
boarding-house was no place for you, Lola. I realize it now! But I was
pushed to the wall. But for Miss Jane's helping me out, I'd have had to
take you away, sure enough! She told you, didn't she?"

"Told me? Told me what?"

"Why, about my idea of getting you that situation up in Cripple? They
needed help bad up in the boarding-house where I lived, and I'd made
'em a promise to fetch you. It was easy work in the dining-room, and
right good pay."

"And--and--_tia_ fixed it--so--you decided to leave me here?"

"That's what she did! I'm mighty glad of it, too, for I see you're not
cut out for any such work. I'm not forgetting what I owe Miss Jane.
She's been a good friend to us both. I was sorry to hear down in
Trinidad about your mortgaging your house that time, Miss Combs. Yes,
I'm downright ashamed to think I've let you pay me month by month for
Lola's services, when really you were out of pocket for her schooling
and all. But I didn't realize how things were, and now we'll level
things up."

"My services!" Lola sprang to her feet. Everything was clear enough
now. No need to summon charity for Jane's shortcomings! No need to
overlook, to palliate, to forgive! Jane's fault had been merely too
lavish a generosity, too large a love. There had been no question with
her of property. She had simply given everything she had to a forsaken,
ungrateful child--home, food, raiment, schooling.

These were the facts. The flood of unutterable feeling which swept over
Lola as the knowledge of it all flashed upon her was something deeper
than thought, something more moving than any mere matter of perception.
A passionate gratitude throbbed in her heart, confused with a
passionate self-reproach. She desired to speak, but somehow her lips
refused utterance. She trembled and turned white, and stood wringing
her hands.

"I was always a generous man," said Mr. Keene, lost to his daughter's
looks in pleasant introspection, "and I mean to do right by you, Miss
Combs. You'll find I'm not ungrateful. Lola'll always write to you,
too, wherever we are. I'm thinking some of Paris. How'd that