It had never before been brought so clearly to the notice of the girl how her own pleasures--not the natural but the created pleasures--of which she was quite as fond as other healthy girls of her age and class, were almost exclusively at the expense of the class she had been accustomed to regard with a general sort of vague sympathy as "the Poor." The attack on her father and herself enraged her; but, as she cooled down, a feeling deeper than mere anger at an injustice took possession of her mind. To find that she herself had, in a way, been the occasion of the distress to women and children, startled her and left in her mind a feeling of uneasiness to which she had hitherto been a stranger. "Father," she began, "did you see that dreadful article in the _Trumpet_ this morning?" Mr. Leigh, without looking up, adopted the natural line of special pleading, although he knew perfectly well instantly the article to which she referred. "What article?" he asked. "That story about our having delayed the passenger train with women and children on it and then having side-tracked them without breakfast, in order to give our car the right-of-way." "Oh! yes. I believe I saw that. I see so many ridiculous things in the newspapers, I pay no attention to them." "But, father, that was a terrible arraignment," said the girl. "Of whom?" asked Mr. Leigh, with a little twinkle in his eye. "Why, of you; of Aunt Sophia, of----" "Of me!" "Yes, and of me--of everybody connected with the road." "Not of you, my dear," said Mr. Leigh, with the light of affection warming up his rather cold face. "Surely no one, even the anarchistic writers of the anarchistic press, could imagine anything to say against you." "Yes, of me, too, though not by name, perhaps; but I was there and I was in a way the cause of the trouble, because the car was sent after me and Aunt Sophia, and I feel terribly guilty about it." "Guilty of what, my dear?" smiled her father. "Of simply using your own property in a way satisfactory to you?" "That is just it, father; that is the point which the writer raises. Is it our own property?" "It certainly is, my love. Property that I have paid for--my associates and I--and which I control, or did control, in conjunction with the other owners, and propose to control to suit myself and them so long as we have the controlling interest, every socialistic writer, speaker and striker to the contrary notwithstanding." "Well," said the girl, "that sounds all right. It looks as if you ought to be able to do what you like with your own; but, do you know, father, I am not sure that it is our own. That is just the point--he says----" "Oh! nonsense!" said her father lightly. "Don't let this Jew go and fill your clear little head with such foolishness as that. Enjoy life while you can. Make your mind easy, and get all the use you can out of what I have amassed for you. I only hope you may have as much pleasure in using it as I have had in providing it."