his strong, helpful voice; "Gladys Fulton is going away from Rockwell to
live; and I can't have her for my chum any more."

"Yes, I know; I saw Mr. Fulton and he told me. He's pretty ill,
Marjorie."

"Yes, I know it; and I'm awful sorry for him, and for them. But I'm sorry
for myself too; I don't want Gladys to go away."

"That's so; you will lose your chum, won't you? By jiminy! it _is_ hard
lines, little girl. How are you going to take it?"

Marjorie stopped crying, and stared at her father.

"How am I going to take it?" she said, in surprise.

"Yes; that's what I asked. Of course, it's a sorrow, and a deep one, and
you'll be very lonely without Gladys, and though your mother and I, and
all of us, will help you all we can, yet we can't help much. So, it's up
to you. Are you going to give way, and mope around, and make yourself
even more miserable than need be; or, are you going to be brave, and
honestly try to bear this trouble nobly and patiently?"

Marjorie looked straight into her father's eyes, and realized that he was
not scolding or lecturing her, he was looking at her with deep, loving
sympathy that promised real help.

"I will try to bear it bravely," she said, slowly; "but, Father, that
doesn't make it any easier to have Gladys go."