Mr. Fenton found that he could not take the matter in hand himself, and that he must wait for the due process of law before he could get even the small sum that would come to him. Mrs. Aldred had to say good-by and go to the steamer. Helen was to write to her and she still strongly advised her going back to Aldred House. Would it be possible? Mr. Castles brought out the pretty box of treasures and delivered it to Helen. The clerk would put her on the train and see her started on her journey; Miss Gage had to remain with the lawyer, but her good-by was very sympathetic and tender, and she, too, begged Helen to write, as she should always take a deep interest in her. Helen settled herself for the long journey and the endeavor to disentangle the events that had so crowded upon her these few days. Whether she should go back to Aldred House did not altogether depend upon herself. True, one perplexing question was settled--she took out her envelope and examined its contents. Five fifty-dollar bills, a ten, and a five beside. Two hundred and sixty-five dollars. She could go through another year successfully, and though she would still be young, she could no doubt find a place to teach. But what if this should be the end of school life? Her whole being rose up in revolt. She had mentally protested against giving it up for pleasure, she remembered, but that would have been going on in knowledge of all kinds, climbing up and up, drinking in the juices of the fruit ripened and preserved long ago, that would never lose its flavor. And to take was not all, to give presently, to rouse some unthinking girl as she had been roused, to reach out a helping hand--yes, she had helped Juliet Craven over the thorny way, through the dense forest where learning was well-nigh smothered with parasitic growths that could be cleared away and let in sunshine. Ah, there were many lives needing it. And now, when one unlooked-for event had cleared the way, this new one must arise. What was her father like? she wondered. She really had no definite or trustworthy impression of him. As a little child she had stood in great awe of him, though she could not remember that he had ever been severe with her. Her mother had complained a good deal, and she always said, "Your father," as if the child was in some way answerable for the infelicities. Aunt Jane had given cruel flings sometimes, and generally scoffed at him as being impractical and a complete failure. But what hurt Helen the most was that all these years he should not have cared enough to write even to Uncle Jason. She, Helen, might have died, or misfortune might have attended Uncle Jason and the house been broken up, she cast on the charities of the world. He could not know.