“I’m so tired of theories,—they don’t help any.” “Oh, yes, they do, dear. Now, try to get up a little more hope. Take it from me,—you’ll see Betty again! She’ll come dancing in, just as she used to do,—say, Mrs Varian, why did she and her father squabble so?” “I can’t explain it. I’ve thought over it often, but it seems to me there was no reason for it. He admired Betty, he was proud of her beauty and grace and accomplishments, but there was something in the child that he didn’t like. I hate to say this, but he seemed to have a natural dislike toward her that he honestly tried to overcome, but he utterly failed in the attempt.” “How very strange!” “It surely is. I’ve never mentioned it to any one before, but you are so sympathetic, I want to ask you what you think could have been the reason for anything like that?” “Did Betty feel that way toward him?” “Oh, no! I mean, not naturally so. But when he would fly at her and scold her for some little, simple thing, of course she flared up and talked back at him. It was only petty bickering, but it was so frequent.” “Wasn’t Mr Varian pleased when he learned that you expected another child?” “Yes, he was delighted. He feared it might not live,—as the others hadn’t, but he was pleased beyond words at the prospect, and we both hoped for a healthy baby. He was so careful of me,—so devoted and loving, and so joyful in the anticipation of the new baby.” “He was with you in Vermont?” “Oh, yes; we had a cottage, and he stayed there while I was in the hospital during my confinement. The house was near by, and he could come to see me at any time.” “Well, I can’t understand his turning against her later. Do they look alike?” “No,—that is, they have similar coloring, but no real resemblance.” “Betty doesn’t look like you, either?” “Not specially. Though I can’t see resemblances as some people do. She was——” “_Is_, Mrs Varian!” “Well, then, Betty is a dear, pretty, sweet-faced girl, healthy and happy, but not remarkable in any way.” “Did she inherit your disposition or her father’s?” “Neither particularly. But I don’t think a young girl often shows definite or strong traits of character.” “Some do,” Zizi said, thoughtfully. “How about talents? I want to find out, you see, more of what Betty is like.” “She has a little musical talent, a taste for drawing, and a fondness for outdoor sports,—but none of these is marked. I can’t describe the child otherwise than as a natural, normal everyday girl. I adore her, of course, but I am not blind to the fact that she is not a genius in any way.” “Nor do you want her to be! As you’ve told me of her, she seems to me a darling, and I mean to find her for you,—and for Mr Granniss.” “Yes, Rodney loves her, and he is as desolate as I am at her loss. Oh, Zizi, have you really any hope, or are you just saying this to comfort me?”