Mr. Atherton has been the master of the Centreville Academy ever since I can remember. A few months ago, however, he was offered a better position in the city, and he decided to leave Centreville. We were very sorry, for we all liked him; and now that he has left, it really seems as if a part of the building itself had been taken away. We were to have a public examination during the last two days of his stay, and Florence Grantley had thought of a beautiful project. She always has good ideas, though I must say they are generally rather expensive. But then her father is rich, and I suppose she never has to think twice before spending a dollar, as some of us are obliged to do. Her plan was to buy an album, put all our pictures in it, and present it to Mr. Atherton before the company, after he had closed the school. The girls wished me to make the presentation address. Of course I was enthusiastic about it, and went home thinking over what I should say and should wear, and all that. There are fifteen girls in our class, and Florence said she knew of a lovely album, one we wouldn't be ashamed to give him. It would cost only eleven dollars and twenty-five cents; and that, you see, would be only seventy-five cents apiece. I went in to dinner full of the new project, and began to talk about it at the table. But Father vetoed it at once. He said he didn't believe in the idea at all. It would be too expensive for some of us, and he did not wish to hear another word about it. When Father takes that tone, of course there's no more to be said. I am too old to cry before everybody, but I didn't wish any more dinner, and as soon as possible I went up to my room and had a good cry. Mother came upstairs as quickly as she could. I knew she would. Mother is a born comforter. Oh, what do girls do who have no mother? She told me I must remember how hard Father had to work for every dollar, and that although what he said sometimes sounded harsh, it was only because his business troubles made him worry, and it added to them to have us wish for things he felt he couldn't afford. Dear Mother! I wonder if she ever wishes for things she doesn't get. Then I told Mother all about it; that it was not merely that one plan, but that I could never join in any project that came up. All the other girls had birthday parties and I went, but never gave one in return. "Of course I don't expect that," said I, feeling a little conscience-stricken, as I saw the look on Mother's face. "Birthdays are so common in this family, of course we can't notice them; but I thought this time we had found something Father could sympathize with. He so often speaks of Mr. Atherton, and the respect he has for him--but of course that's all over now. If I can't, I can't; it _does_ seem hard though never to do as the others do."