The girl leaned towards the older woman, her face aglow with pride and admiration, as she searched for some acknowledgment of her words. "Daddy is so noble and so good," she explained in a voice modulated by tenderness. "He spends all of his time thinking about other people." The lines of Mrs. Henderson's mouth relaxed, and the tempo of the tapping toe slowed. Her eyes twinkled merrily. "Isn't it wonderful, Hennie?" and Virginia looked up to a face for a moment puzzled. "Very wonderful, child," responded the widow, and Virginia never dreamed that there was a delicate note of sarcasm in the voice. Leaning forward, Mrs. Henderson clasped the girl's hand. "Your father is a lucky man to have such love and affection," she said, and then as though thinking aloud, she murmured, "I hope that he appreciates it." After a pause she returned to the subject of the orphans with great vigor. "Some one in this town must loan us a truck. That is all there is about it." "Let Daddy do it. He will love to." The hopeful enthusiasm of the girl was lost upon the older woman. "Well, it will do no harm to give him the opportunity," she conceded dryly; "but I wouldn't count on it too much if I were you." Suddenly, she remembered something. "Dear me, I almost forgot it. I must run over to the Lucinda Home a minute. You come along, dear," she urged. "Hennie, I can't. I haven't a hat. I am not dressed to go out." Mrs. Henderson smiled. "It doesn't make any difference what you wear over there. Most of the old ladies are so nearly blind that they can't tell what you have on." So Virginia agreed to go, and, as the distance to the institution was short, in a few minutes they entered the grounds. The Lucinda Home for Aged Women occupied a large brick building. A triple-decked porch, supported by posts and brackets of ornamental iron work covered the entire front of the edifice and afforded delightful resting places from which to view the beautiful grounds. The two women ascended the steps to the lower porch. On either side of the entrance stretched a line of chairs occupied by old ladies. They rocked and fanned and stared across the grounds with dulled, unseeing eyes, as if watching and waiting for something. The afternoon light flashed against the spectacles. It brought out the snow of the moving heads. It showed the deep carved lines of age and it disclosed the hands, knotted and toil worn.