"
"I have not the interest in clothes I once had, mother" I
replied. "If Leila will give me her old things I will use them."
"Bab!" mother said, with a peircing glanse, "go upstairs
and bring down your Check Book."
I turned pale with fright, but father said:
"No, my dear. Suppose we let this thing work itself out. It
is Barbara's money, and she must learn."
That night, when I was in bed and trying to divide $229.45
by 12 months, father came in and sat down on the bed.
"There doesn't happen to be anything you want to say to me,
I suppose, Bab?" he inquired in a gentle tone.
Although not a weeping person, shedding but few tears even
when punished in early years, his kind tone touched my Heart,
and made me lachrymoze. Such must always be the feelings of
those who decieve.
But, although bent, I was not yet broken. I therfore wept
on in silence while father patted my back.
"Because," he said, "while I am willing to wait until you
are ready, when things begin to get to thick I want you to know
that I'm around, the same as usual."
He kissed the back of my neck, which was all that was
visable, and went to the door.
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