"Pore! Pore!" he repeated hopelessly. "Why, if we had a million, I would still be just common, ornery, doless pore folks--tongue-tied and helpless, and I couldn't give you nothin--nothin!" he cried, "but just rubbish! Yet there are so many things I'd like to give you, Laura--so many, many things!" he repeated. "God Almighty's put a terrible hog-tight inheritance tax on experience, girl!" He smiled a crooked, tearful little smile--looked up into her eyes in dog-like wistfulness as he continued: "I'd like to give you some of mine--some of the wisdom I've got one way and another--but, Lord, Lord," he wailed, "I can't. The divine inheritance tax bars me." He patted her with one hand, holding his smoldering pipe in the other. Then he shrilled out in the impotence of his pain: "I just must give you this, Laura: Whatever comes and whatever goes--and lots of sad things will come and lots of sad things will go, too, for that matter--always remember this: Happiness is from the heart out--not from the world in! Do you understand, child--do you?" The girl smiled and petted him, but he saw that he hadn't reached her consciousness. He puffed at a dead pipe a moment, then he cried as he beat his hands together in despair: "I suppose it's no use. It's no use. But you can at least remember these words, Laura, and some time the meaning will get to you. Always carry your happiness under your bonnet! It's the only thing I can give you--out of all my store!" The girl put her arm about him and pressed closely to him, and they rose, as she said: "Why, father--I understand. Of course I understand. Don't you see I understand, father?" She spoke eagerly and clasped her arms tighter about the pudgy little figure. They stood quietly a moment, as the father looked earnestly, dog-wise, up into her face, as if trying by his very gaze to transmit his loving wisdom. Then, as he found voice: "No, Laura, probably you'll need fifty years to understand; but look over on the hill across the valley at the moving cloud shadows. They are only shadows--not realities. They are just unrealities that prove the real--just trailing anchors of the sun!" He had pocketed his pipe and his hand came up from his pocket as he waved to the distant shadows and piped: "Trouble--heartaches--all the host of clouds that cover life--are only--only--" he let his voice drop gently as he sighed: "only anchors of the sun; Laura, they only prove--just prove--" She did not let him finish, but bent to kiss him and she could feel the shudder of a smothered sob rack him as she touched his cheek. Then he smiled at her and chirped: "Just Eendiany--sis'. Just pore, dumb Eendiany! Hi, ho! Now run and be a good girl! And here's a jim-crack your daddy got you!"