When he first began to be a part of their family affairs the conventional standards of Father Gerhardt proved untrustworthy. He had no means of judging such a character. This was no ordinary person coquetting with his pretty daughter. The manner in which the Senator entered the family life was so original and so plausible that he became an active part before any one thought anything about it. Gerhardt himself was deceived, and, expecting nothing but honor and profit to flow to the family from such a source, accepted the interest and the service, and plodded peacefully on. His wife did not tell him of the many presents which had come before and since the wonderful Christmas. But one morning as Gerhardt was coming home from his night work a neighbor named Otto Weaver accosted him. “Gerhardt,” he said, “I want to speak a word with you. As a friend of yours, I want to tell you what I hear. The neighbors, you know, they talk now about the man who comes to see your daughter.” “My daughter?” said Gerhardt, more puzzled and pained by this abrupt attack than mere words could indicate. “Whom do you mean? I don’t know of any one who comes to see my daughter.” “No?” inquired Weaver, nearly as much astonished as the recipient of his confidences. “The middle-aged man, with gray hair. He carries a cane sometimes. You don’t know him?” Gerhardt racked his memory with a puzzled face. “They say he was a senator once,” went on Weaver, doubtful of what he had got into; “I don’t know.” “Ah,” returned Gerhardt, measurably relieved. “Senator Brander. Yes. He has come sometimes—so. Well, what of it?” “It is nothing,” returned the neighbor, “only they talk. He is no longer a young man, you know. Your daughter, she goes out with him now a few times. These people, they see that, and now they talk about her. I thought you might want to know.” Gerhardt was shocked to the depths of his being by these terrible words. People must have a reason for saying such things. Jennie and her mother were seriously at fault. Still he did not hesitate to defend his daughter. “He is a friend of the family,” he said confusedly. “People should not talk until they know. My daughter has done nothing.” “That is so. It is nothing,” continued Weaver. “People talk before they have any grounds. You and I are old friends. I thought you might want to know.” Gerhardt stood there motionless another minute or so, his jaw fallen and a strange helplessness upon him. The world was such a grim thing to have antagonistic to you. Its opinions and good favor were so essential. How hard he had tried to live up to its rules! Why should it not be satisfied and let him alone? “I am glad you told me,” he murmured as he started homeward. “I will see about it. Good-by.” Gerhardt took the first opportunity to question his wife. “What is this about Senator Brander coming out to call on Jennie?” he asked in German. “The neighbors are talking about it.”