she hastened to add, "That is, I take care of him, and keep house for
him, and remind him of things he forgets." Then with girlish honesty,
she added, "Though I must confess that he has to remind me of things I
forget, oftener than I do him. I inherited my forgetfulness from
father. I asked him once if he inherited his from grandfather, and he
said he forgot whether grandfather was forgetful or not! Father is
very clever. So's Fairy. And the twins are the smartest little things
you ever saw,--and Connie, too. Connie is the oddest, keenest child.
She's wonderful. They all are,--but me. It's kind of humiliating to
be the only stupid one in a family of smart folks. I suppose you've no
idea how it feels, and I can't explain it. But sometimes I think maybe
I ought to go off and die, so the whole family can shine and sparkle
together. As it is, there's just a dull glow from my corner, quite
pale and ugly compared with the brilliant gleams the others are sending
out."

Said Professor Rayburn, "Ah, Prudence, the faint, sweet mellow glows
are always beautiful. Not sparkling, perhaps, not brilliant! But
comforting, and cheering, and--always to be trusted. It's just these
little corner-glows, like yours, that make life worth living."

This was rather deep for Prudence, but she felt instinctively that he
was complimenting her. She thanked him sweetly, and said, "And after
all, I do not really mind being the stupid one. I think it's rather
fun, for then I can just live along comfortably, and people do not
expect much of me. It would wear me all out to be as clever as Fairy,
or as witty as Carol, or as studious as Lark. But I am most
tremendously proud of them, I assure you."

If Professor Rayburn had continued along this interesting and fruitful