that he knew of men, all that he feared of her lover, were as chaff in the scales for her. The Doctor, the boss, the friend, the man, withdrew from his consciousness as he sat behind the vines and he became the impersonal, universal father, wondering at the mystery of life. As he sat musing, he heard a step behind him, and saw his daughter coming across the porch to greet him. "Father," she said, "I have just this half hour that's to be ours. I've planned for it all day. Mother has promised to keep every one away." The father's jaw began to tremble and his cherubic face to wrinkle in an emotional pucker. He put the girl's arm about his neck, and rubbed her hand upon his cheek. Then the father said softly: "I never felt poor before until this minute." The girl looked inquiringly at him and was about to protest. He stopped her: "Money wouldn't do you much good--not all the money in the world." "Well, father, I don't want money: we don't need it," said the girl. "Why, we have a beautiful home and Tom is making--" "It's not that, my dear--not that." He played with her hand a moment longer. "I feel that I ought to give you something better than money; my--my--well, my view of life--what they call philosophy of life. It's the accumulation of fifty years of living." He fumbled in his pocket for his pipe. "Let me smoke, and maybe I can talk." "Laura--girl--" He puffed bashfully in a pause, and began again: "There's a lot of Indiana--real common Eendiany," he mocked, "about your father, and I just some way can't talk under pressure." He caressed the girl's hand and pulled at his pipe as one giving birth to a system of philosophy. Yet he was dumb as he sat before the warm glow of the passing torch of life which was shining from his daughter's face. Finally he burst forth, piping impatience at his own embarrassment. "I tell you, daughter, it's just naturally hell to be pore." The girl saw his twitching mouth and the impotence of his swimming eyes; but before she could protest he checked her.