himself beyond his natural bent. As the daughter, Dora Hanchett,
grew to womanhood, she divided her mother's burden with her, and
ultimately, as the mother's health failed, relieved her of it almost
entirely.

The family once reunited and domiciled in their new home, it soon
became evident to the most casual observer that Dora exercised the
functions of commander-in-chief of that force, and that the
doctor, notwithstanding his brilliant record in the field, had been
incontinently reduced to the ranks, and subjected to a rather rigid
discipline. Let it not be inferred, however, that Dora ruled with a
high hand or with a rod of iron. Far from it. She was the quietest and
meekest of tyrants, controlling not by conscious will or effort, but
by divine commission, as many a woman does.

Not only was Dora the head of the household in the sense of directing
its internal affairs, but she likewise soon proved herself to be
its mainstay as bread-winner. The doctor under her hands became a
dignified and not unornamental figure-head to the concern, in whom she
took a certain filial pride. His banner was still allowed to hang upon
the outer wall, and, as some slight justification of the legend borne
upon it, the semblance of an office was maintained for him, where
he spent many solitary and irksome hours daily in the semblance of
professional study and work. But his income did not amount even to a
semblance, and upon Dora, therefore, devolved the task of maintaining
the cuisine as well as the character of the establishment. She had
been accustomed to this duty indeed ever since, upon becoming a
schoolteacher at the age of sixteen, she had proved her capacity
to perform it. She early found her place in the public schools of
Clarksville, and so the pot was soon boiling merrily, and the demands