Even Obadiah relented before this sorrowful picture. "Who said anything about folded arms," he demanded shortly, "or about sitting alone, either? You are out some place in that machine every day. It won't hurt you to remain at home until Mr. Wilkins has seen you. My affairs are of more importance than yours." Virginia looked at him with great solemnity. "You want to be cross at me, Daddy, and you can't make yourself," she laughed. "These peaches and cream are protecting me. If they didn't taste so good to you, I would get a scolding. I don't deserve it, though, because, after all, my affairs are always your affairs. Ike says that the machine runs better if it is used every day. I keep it in splendid order for you." The efforts of his daughter did not appear to impress Obadiah. She went on with an air of pride, "Lately, I have been busy on a surprise for you." She assumed an air of dignity. "I am giving an entertainment to the old ladies of the Lucinda Home this afternoon. I planned it all by myself and I invite you to be present. There'll be a concert by a brass band. Aren't you surprised, Daddy?" Obadiah was surprised. Without reference to natural perplexity as to why festivities for the benefit of the old ladies should be a matter of astonishment to him, there were ample grounds for amazement in the knowledge that his youthful daughter had assumed management of a production involving a brass band. It was as if she had announced her connection with a circus for the aged. "Where did you get the band?" demanded Obadiah, in the tone of an anxious parent whose infant has returned bearing personal property suspected of belonging to a neighbor. "Colonel Ryan loaned it to me. He is coming, too. Won't you come, Daddy dear, please?" There was a wistful look in the girl's face. "It's going to be lovely." Obadiah was uncomfortable. "I can't come today," he replied, finally. "Oh Daddy--" her disappointment showed in every note of her voice--"I have counted so much on having you. I would be so proud of you." She glanced imploringly at him. "I'm going out of town," he said. "Can't you put it off?" "No, Virginia, I have made my plans to go today. I can't let anything interfere with business arrangements. They mean dollars and cents." "All right, Daddy," she surrendered with a sad little sigh and tried to cheer herself. "Some day when I have something else you'll plan to come, won't you, dear?" He was interested in his newspaper now. "Perhaps," he finally answered absently without looking up. For a time they ate in silence. "The afternoon frightens me, Daddy," she told him with a worried air. "It's a big responsibility. What if it should be a failure?" He crushed his paper down by his plate and snapped, "You got into the thing of your own accord. It's up to you to see it through. To make a success of it--a Dale success. You can do it."