craved. His was
merely the prosperity of an intellectual, self-made man whose time for
rest had come.

Ruth seated herself on a low stool that she drew up before him, and laid
her hand upon his.

"You, darling?" He spoke in a full, musical voice with a marked French
accent.

"Can you spare me a few minutes, Father?"

"I am all ears;" he shut the book, and his hand closed about hers.

"Jennie was here just now."

"And did not come in to see me?"

"She had something to tell me."

"A secret?"

"Yes; something I must repeat to you."

"Yes?"

"Father--Jennie thinks--she has reason to know that--dear, do you think
Mother is perfectly well?"

"No, my child; I know she is not."

This quiet assurance was staggering.

"And you allow her to go on in this way without calling in a physician?"
A wave of indignant color suffused her cheeks.

"Yes."

"But--but--why?" She became a little confused under his calm gaze,
feeling on the instant that she had implied an accusation unjustly.

"Because, Ruth, I have become convinced of it only within the past week.
Your mother knows it herself, and is trying to hide it from me."

"Did she admit it?"

"I have not spoken of it to her; she is very excitable, and as she
wishes to conceal it, I do not care to annoy her by telling her of my
discovery."

"But isn't it wrong--unwise--to allow her to dissipate so much?"

"I have managed within the past week to keep you as quiet as possible."

"But to-night--forgive me, Father--you insist on our going to this
reception."

"Yes, my sweet confessor; but I have a good reason,--one not to be
spoken of."

"'Those who trust us educate us,'" she pleaded in wistful earnestness.

"Then your education is complete. Well, I knew your mother would resist
seeing any physician, for fear of his measures going contrary to her
desires; so I have planned for her to meet to-night a certain doctor
whom I would trust professionally with my wife's life, and on whom I
can rely for the necessary tact to hide the professional object of their
meeting. What do you think of my way, dear?"

For answer she stooped and kissed his hand.

"May I know his name?" she asked after a pause.

"His name is Kemp,--Dr. Herbert Kemp."

"Why, he lives a few blocks from here; I have seen his sign. Is he an
old physician?"

"I should judge him to be between thirty-five and forty. Not old
certainly, but one with the highest reputation for skill. Personally he