talk it over with you. I get so desolate sometimes.
I never seemed to miss my father so much as now.
Perhaps it is because Lucy's babyhood and childhood
are over and she is entering upon womanhood with
all the dangers it brings. And she frightens me so
sometimes," she continued after a slight pause.
"She is different; more self-willed, more self-
centred. Besides, her touch has altered. She doesn't
seem to love me as she did--not in the same way."

"But she could never do anything else but love
you," he interrupted quickly, speaking for himself
as well as Lucy, his voice vibrating under his emotions.
It was all he could do to keep his hands
from her own; her sending for him alone restrained
him.

"I know that, but it is not in the old way. It
used to be 'Sister, darling, don't tire yourself,' or
'Sister, dear, let me go upstairs for you,' or 'Cuddle
close here, and let us talk it all out together.' There
is no more of that. She goes her own way, and when
I chide her laughs and leaves me alone until I make
some new advance. Help me, please, and with all
the wisdom you can give me; I have no one else in
whom I can trust, no one who is big enough to know
what should be done. I might have talked to Mr.
Dellenbaugh about it, but he is away."

"No; talk it all out to me," he said simply. "I