"You don't have to do your own work. There's Lorelei to help."

"You know I wouldn't let her do it."

"Afraid it would spoil her hands, eh?" Mr. Knight snorted,
disdainfully. "What are hands made for, anyhow? Honest work never
hurt mine."

Jim stirred and smiled; the retort upon his lips was only too
obvious.

"She's too pretty," said the mother. "You don't realize it; none
of us do, but--she's beautiful. Where she gets her good looks from
I don't know." "What's the difference? It won't hurt her to wash
dishes. She wouldn't have to keep it up forever, anyhow; she can
have any fellow in the county."

"Yes, and she'll marry, sure, if we stay here."

Knight's colorless eyes opened. "Then what are you talking about
going away to a strange place for? It ain't every girl that can
have her pick."

Mrs. Knight began slowly, musingly: "You need some plain talk,
Peter. I don't often tell you just what I think, but I'm going to
now. You're past fifty; you've spent twenty years puttering around
at politics, with business as a side issue, and what have you got
to show for it? Nothing. The reformers are in at last, and you're
out for good. You had your chance and you missed it. You were