A strike followed in which the employees were successful and Obadiah never forgave Mrs. Henderson for giving a weapon to his opponents. Yet, strangely enough, he had never attempted to interfere with her friendship for his daughter. Possibly, knowing the widow, he feared that she would openly defy him, and, abetted by Serena, carry the war into his own house, to the greater enjoyment of his fellow townsmen. As Mrs. Henderson welcomed Virginia, she was thinking of other things than Obadiah. She was filled with amusement and gave vent to laughter. "Dearie, how on earth did you get mixed up with that minstrel parade? I never dreamed that my little girl would startle this town." Again the widow gave way to merriment. She was thinking of a group of women she had caught discussing with great unkindness the outcome of the girl's efforts to make the pickaninnies happy. Hennie's championship of her favorite had been unusually vigorous, and the endeavors of the critics to reverse themselves had resembled a stampede. "We had nothing to do with the parade," Virginia told her. "We followed it so that the orphans might enjoy the music. As we had nearly frightened them out of their wits, I took them for a ride to make up." "I heard how you came to take the orphans for a ride. I could understand that, but the minstrel part puzzled me," Mrs. Henderson's amusement faded into seriousness. "That ride idea is a splendid one. It would add so much to the happiness of those children." She continued, "I have been on the Board of that Home for years. There are so many things to be done over there and so little to do with. No one is particularly interested in the place. We must find some way, though, to arrange rides for those orphans now that you have started things going." Virginia was instantly fired with great enthusiasm. "I'll take them out each week, myself," she promised. Mrs. Henderson smiled. "We can't allow you to continue to excite too much interest in this town." The girl disregarded the objection. "But I started it, Hennie." "That is very true, but you can't expect your father to let you use his fine car for those children. Anyway, it is not necessary to bother about that, because it is entirely too small. We need a truck. Something in which movable seats can be placed." "Like those at the mill? Why not ask Daddy for one of them?" suggested Virginia. "They would be the very thing," Mrs. Henderson admitted, but she shook her head hopelessly. "Your father would never let you have one of them. We must look elsewhere." "Oh, yes, he will, Hennie," Virginia assured her with great confidence. The widow's doubting eye moved the girl to remonstrate, "You don't know him at all. I think that it is the strangest thing, that you have been my father's neighbor all of these years and don't understand him better." Mrs. Henderson displayed sudden stern-eyed interest in a flower bed upon her lawn, and the toe of her shoe softly tapped the floor of the porch.