"Very likely, poor men! You see they hadn't the privilege of knowing the girls of to-day and they thought their own women were the top-notch." "Now you are horrid and sarcastic," said Lena. "Never a bit. I find it impossible to believe that there was ever before so much beauty in the world. There was here and there a pretty girl, like Helen of Troy, and they made an awful fuss over her." "But she must have been really wonderful." "Yes, if a girl is as much run after as that, she must either be a raving beauty or else she lives in the far West." "But, you know, there aren't so very many real beauties nowadays, are there?" She glanced sidewise at him in an adorable manner. "I can't remember more than one--or two," said Dick judicially. Lena laughed softly. "I think it must have been very nice to be one of the few and be made a fuss over, instead of--" "Instead of what?" "Instead of having to grub and struggle for your bread," Lena answered,--and there was a misty look in the big eyes she turned up to him. "Poor little girl!" said Dick. "You certainly are not of the kind who ought to battle with the world. Haven't you any man who could shelter you a little?" Lena shook her head, with an air of patient suffering. "My father is dead," she said. "He was of a good family, as you might know by my name, but he was wounded in the war, and he never got over it. Of course he was very young then. He wasn't married till long afterward. He died when I was a little thing." "That was the history of my father, too!" Dick felt a glow of kindred experience. "See, that is his portrait over the mantel." Lena looked very lovely and spiritual as she gazed up at the quiet face that looked back at her, and Dick watched her. Then she drew a full breath and turned her eyes on him. "You are like him," she said softly, and something in her voice made the words a thrilling tribute. Then she added: "Yes, but he left you in comfort, and we--my mother and I--" "Will you let me come to see your mother some time?" Lena's heart beat fast with mingled fear and hope, but all Dick saw was a startled and sweet surprise. "I should be almost ashamed to have you come," she said with a soft blush and a look of shy invitation. "We are so poor and we live in such a shabby place." "If your shabbiness comes because of your father's sacrifice for his country it is something to be proud of," Dick answered. Through Lena's mind there passed a swift memory of quarrels and bickerings, of daily smallnesses, which were her chief recollection of her father. She looked frankly up into Dick's face. "Yes," she said. "That ought to make it easy to bear. Now I must not talk about myself any more. What did you tell me about that funny old book?" "And I may come to see you and your mother?" Dick persisted. "If you do not forget us to-morrow,"--Lena glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes in a way calculated to make him remember. "I shan't forget," said Dick.