“I guess it has,” said the little girl comfortably, and passed him his cup of coffee and the bread-plate. They both had a sense of relief that Cornelia was not there and that there was a legitimate reason for not blaming her for her absence. Neither had yet been willing to admit to their loyal selves that Cornelia’s attitude of apathy to the family strait had been disappointing. They kept hoping against hope. Mr. Copley finished his coffee hurriedly, and looked at his watch. “Better let her sleep as long as she will,” he said. “She’ll likely be awake before you need to go to school; and, if she isn’t, you can leave a note telling her where to find things. Where’s Harry? Isn’t he up?” “Oh, yes, he went to the grocery for the soup-bone he forgot to get last night. I was going to put it on cooking before I left. I thought maybe she wouldn’t know to——” “That’s right! That’s right! You’re a good little girl, Louie. Your sister’ll appreciate that. Make Harry eat a good breakfast when he gets back. It isn’t good to go out on an empty stomach; and we must all keep well, and not worry mother, you know.” “Yes, I know,” sighed the little girl with a responsible look; “I made him take a piece with him, and I’m saving something hot for him when he comes back. He’ll help me with the dishes, he said. We’ll make out all right. Don’t you worry, father, dear.” The father with a tender father-and-mother-both smile came around, and kissed her white forehead where the soft baby-gold hair parted, and then hurried away to his car, thankful for the mother’s look in his youngest girl’s face; wondering whether they had chased it forever away from the eldest girl’s face by sending her too young to college.