demand, the first to be entrusted with sweet secrets, the first
to be sent for in paralysing emergencies and moments of sorrow.
The warmth of heart which Martin ridiculed and resented,
intensified by its very repression, bubbled out to others in
cheery helpfulness, and blessed her quick tears.

Of her deep yearning for love, she never spoke. Just when she
would begin to feel almost self-sufficient it would quicken to a
throbbing ache. Usually, at such times, she buried it
determinedly under work. But one day, yielding to an impulse, she
wrote to Norah asking if her little namesake could come for a
month's visit.

"I know she is only seven," the letter ran, "but I am sure if she
were put in care of the conductor she would come through safely,
and I do so want to see her." After long hesitation, she enclosed
a check to cover expenses. She was half frightened by her own
daring and did not tell Martin until she had received the reply
giving the date for the child's arrival.

"I earned that, Martin," she returned determinedly to his
emphatic remonstrance. "And when the check comes in it's going to
be honored."

"A Wade check is always honored," was his cryptic assertion. "I
merely say," he added more calmly, "that if we are to board her,
and I don't make any protest over that at all, it seems to me
only fair that her father should have bought the ticket."

"Maybe you're right--in theory. But then she simply couldn't have