You are quite right in your surmise; but may I ask why you have spoken
to me about it in this way?"

"That's just what I was comin' to, ma'am," said the cobbler. "I've got
a daughter, too. I suppose you think she ain't fit to be mentioned in
the same day with that glorious gal of yours."

"Oh, Mr. Kimper!" murmured the lady.

"Well if you don't, I don't see how you can help doin' it; that's all.
Your daughter is a lady. She shows in her everythin' that there is in
her father and mother, an' everybody knows that they're the finest
people hereabouts. My child is the daughter of a thief an' a brawler
an' a loafer, an' she's a servant in a common hotel, which is about as
low down, I s'pose, as any gal can get in this town that don't go to
the bad entirely. Mrs. Prency, that gal has broke my heart. I don't
have no influence over her at all. You want me to help you out about
your daughter. I am goin' to do it just as far as heaven will give me
the strength to do it. Now I want to throw myself right at your feet
an' beg you, for the love of God, to try to do somethin' for _my_
child."

"Why, Mr. Kimper, certainly," said the judge's wife. "I am very glad
you spoke to me about her. But, really, I have tried to do a great deal
for her. While you were away I used to send clothing to your wife for
her, so that the child might be able always to make a proper appearance
at school."

"Yes, ma'am, so you did," said the cobbler, "an' it's a shame that I
should ask anythin' else of you, for I know you're generous-hearted,