She took her books and went off, singing as happily as though she were the child of a millionaire father; and I sat and looked out of the east window to where the ice lay gorged along the banks of the river, and I tried to think about the ways of Providence. I knew of scores of children twice the age of little Bernice, who never took a single thought of tomorrow, who never expected to keep house until they grew to full womanhood and married a rich husband, who would employ servants and furnish everything the heart could desire. But this child of seven already had her life mapped out for her—a life of toil and care and hardships, and her only pay was to be with those she loved. And down the road hurried the child, skipping hipperty-hop, her soul as happy as a blue-bird in May, her little red hood tilted to one side and a lock of escaped hair dancing in the wind. Unconsciously the tears welled into my eyes as I looked after her, and the words came again into my mouth: “Dear God, what an age to give up child-life for those she loves!” THE MALE FLIRT The fickle man was coming to have a last meeting with the girl whose heart he had broken—whose heart was still breaking. They had been engaged for two years, and he came out to the farm to visit her every time his business allowed him to visit the town near to the girl’s home. He had always lived in this particular country town, but had been traveling for an educational institution for several years. He had always written to Lizzie once a week while away, but of late he had often skipped a week, and now his letters were growing colder and more unfeeling. It had been rumored that he had another girl in town to whom he wrote almost daily, and with whom he had been seen riding on the day he promised to call on Lizzie and failed to appear. It had been rumored that he was engaged to the other girl, but Lizzie could not believe the rumor. She knew there was something wrong, but hoped it would all be straightened out when he came. Again he disappointed the girl and failed to come. He wrote her a formal letter telling her that he had been detained in a distant town. But the following day a gossipping neighbor said she had seen him in town the previous night. She had gone into an ice cream parlor and saw him eating ice cream with the girl whom it had been said he was going to marry. For several nights her sister Maggie, who roomed with Lizzie, heard her sobbing silently late in the night, sobbing as though her heart was breaking. Maggie longed to console her, but was it time yet to speak? Poor Lizzie still had hopes that the fickle lover would return and set everything straight.