not far away, but near, _very_ near, and pleading through her child.

The sunny head was dropped again, and Susie prayed--even as Rosie had
begged her. Prayed for guidance to the better way.

Three pair of little pattering feet were resting. Three rosy faces
pressed the downy pillow, and Susie's evening task was done.

Gently she stole away.

"I will go to father myself, to-night. I will plead with him until he
must yield," Susie said, as cautiously closing, the door of the
nursery she entered her own room.

The evening was oppressive, and Susie's black dress became very
uncomfortable. Flitting about, guided by the moonbeams, she sought for
something of lighter texture. The mourning robe was laid aside, and a
dress, white and fleecy, wrapped her slender form. The clustering
ringlets were smoothed back, and rolled in a heavy coil high on the
back of her head.

"Now I will go down. Father will be alone at this hour, and--" She
paused, raised her sweet eyes upward, and clasping her hands she
murmured, "Mother in heaven, plead for me."

Noiselessly she opened the door and glanced into the room. Her father
sat with his back toward her, leaning on a table over which were
scattered books and papers. In his hand he held the picture of her
mother. She drew back a little, still, however, standing within the
door. She dared not interrupt the sacred privacy of the hour. The