"Tut, tut!" Gorham stroked the soft fair hair affectionately, but
discreetly. "Little girls shouldn't concern themselves with such
matters."

The girl released him, and, dropping on her knees, gathered up the
fallen missives. Instead of handing them to her father, she sat back and
looked up seriously into his face.

"Girls are no good, anyhow," she rebelled. "If you would only give me
the chance, I know I could help you in lots of ways, and then I'd feel
that I was worth something. I just can't stand it to sit around all the
time and have things done for me. Oh, why wasn't I a boy!"

"Come, come." Gorham raised her gently to her feet, noting the tears
in her eyes, and drew her to him. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings,
dear; but business and battle are meant for men. The Amazons in ancient
history didn't change the order of things, did they? You should be proud
to be just what you are. Now give me my letters. There's some one else I
want to see, you know."

"She's waiting for you," Alice replied, simply, looking into his face
with comprehension. "She's the sweetest thing, daddy," the girl
continued. "One moment she is so wise that she seems old enough to be my
truly mother; and then again so young and sympathetic as to be just an
older sister. I can't tell you how much she does for me every day, or
how completely she understands me."

"You and I are mighty lucky to have Eleanor, Alice," Gorham replied,
feelingly. "We should both be very grateful to her, dear."