the President’s daughter, and would not any man deem it an honour to be decorated by her hand or high privilege to carry her flag? The lowest menial might properly take pride in her approbation and set great store by a token of her approval.... But—this man is neither low nor menial, for all his servile livery. He is a gentleman by every token: educated, brave, strong, modest, self-sacrificing, chivalrous. It is hard to consider him as an underling—a footman.... And why is he a footman? ... She does not care why he is a footman ... or that he is a footman.... He must keep his place. *CHAPTER XXII* Helen was taking her early morning ride. She pulled her horse up sharply and waited for her groom to overtake her. "Why are you a footman, Hayward?" Hayward was startled. The girl had been uncertain in her treatment of him for a month, and he was expecting anything that might happen, from a plain discharge to arrest as a suspicious character. He was confused by the suddenness of the question, and by the peculiar mingling of sympathy and impatience in Helen’s voice. "Who are you, and what are you trying to do?" "I am John Hayward Graham, Miss Helen, as I told you before. I am a footman now because it seems to be necessary. I did not intend to be a footman so long as this when I obtained the position." Helen thought she detected a shade of embarrassment again. "But after I was employed at the White House my mother’s health gave way suddenly and she could no longer support herself and I was compelled to keep the place." The man saw that he was making an awkward mess of it, and the quick intelligence of Helen’s eyes showed him her inferences were all adverse. "Oh, well," he said, "I’ll begin again. It took all the money my mother had, Miss Helen, to pay for my education—all, and more. That she ever met the expense of my tuition has been a miracle to me. But she did it—insisted upon doing it. My father was a Harvard man. He died when I was two years old, leaving as his only admonition the injunction that I be thoroughly educated. My mother was faithful to that exhortation. She spent her meagre fortune and the abundant strength of her life to the last cent and almost to the last heart-beat in a religious obedience to it." "Your mother is still living?" "Yes; and please do not think I was so ungrateful and so unfilial as purposely to wait till she was helpless before lifting the burden of breadwinning from her shoulders. I was in five months of graduation when the call came for volunteers in the spring of 191-; yet I could not resist that call, nor would my mother have me resist it." "A Spartan mother," commented Helen.