his sister's hair.

"It knows that it will soon be free."

"A father out of jail!" sobbed Viola, as she released herself from her
brother's arms.

"He has had his punishment, dear Viola!" said Ephraim softly.

Viola turned away. There was a painful silence, and then she looked up
at her brother again. Her face was aglow, her eyes sparkled with a
strange fire; she was trembling with agitation. Never before had Ephraim
seen her thus.

"Ephraim, my brother," she commenced, in that measured monotone so
peculiar to intense emotion, "with the bird you can do as you please.
You can set it free, or, if you like, you can wring its neck. But as for
him, I'll never look in his face again, from me he shall not have a word
of welcome. He broke our mother's heart ... our good, good mother; he
has dishonored himself and us. And I can never forget it."

"Is it right for a child to talk like that of her own father?" said
Ephraim in a tremulous voice.

"When a child has good cause to be ashamed of her own father!" cried
Viola.

"Oh, my Viola, you must have forgotten dear mother's dying words. Don't
you remember, as she opened her eyes for the last time, how she gathered
up her failing strength, and raising herself in her bed, 'Children,' she