short man, somewhat stout, and pompous both in appearance and manner.
Fortunate it was that his only daughter had inherited none of his
qualities, but was more like her mother, whose memory she cherished
with undying affection. Since her death home had been more of a prison
to her than anything else. Neither her father nor her only brother had
understood her, and she was forced to depend more and more upon her own
reliant self.

"What kept you so late, Lois?" her father asked as soon as she had
taken her place at the table. "You know very well that I do not like
to wait for dinner."

"I am very sorry, father," was the reply, "but I became so greatly
interested in an old man and a girl out on the river that I had no idea
how time was passing."

"Who were they, Lois?" her brother enquired.

"What new creatures have you picked up now? You haven't run out of
homeless cats and dogs, have you?"

The colour mounted to Lois' temples at these words, for it was not the
first time she had been sneered at for her tenderness of heart for all
suffering creatures. With difficulty she restrained an angry reply,
and went on calmly with her dinner.

"Come, Lois," Sammie urged, "never mind Dick. He must have his little
joke, don't you know. He was only in fun."

"A joke with a sharp thorn in it isn't much fun," and Lois looked