“I'm goin' to ask you for somethin', father. You know you told me that on my birthday you'd give me most anythin' I wanted. Wall, I want somethin' this month, not next, as soon as I can get it--a pianner. I guess the settin'-room would look smarter-like, an' I'd learn to play. All the girls do East,” she added, pouting. “Yes,” the Elder agreed thoughtfully, doubting whether he should follow her lead eastwards, “I reckon that's so. I'll see about it right off, Loo. I oughter hev thought of it before. But now, right off,” and as he spoke he laid his large hand with studied carelessness on her shoulder--he was afraid that an intentional caress might be inopportune. “I'm cert'in Mr. Bancroft's sisters play, an' I--” she looked down nervously for a moment, and then, still blushing deeply, changed the attack: “He's smart, ain't he, father? He'd make a good lawyer, wouldn't he?” “I reckon he would,” replied the Elder. “I'm so glad,” the girl went on hurriedly, as if afraid to give herself time to think of what she was about to say, “for, father, he wants to study in an office East and he hain't got the money, and--oh, father!” she threw her arms round his neck and hid her face on his shoulder, “I want to go with him.” The Elder's heart seemed to stop beating, but he could not hold his loved one in his arms and at the same time realize his own pain. He stroked the bowed head gently, and after a pause: “He could study with Lawyer Barkman in Wichita, couldn't he? and then you'd be to hum still. No. Wall! Thar!” and again came a pause of silence. “I reckon, anyhow, you knew I'd help you. Didn't you now?” His daughter drew herself out of his embrace. Recalled thus to the matter in hand he asked: “Did he say how much money 'twould take?” “Two or three thousand dollars”--and she scanned his face anxiously--“for studyin' and gettin' an office and everythin' in New York. Things are dearer there.”