“Yes, sir,” breathed Virginia, drawing back a little from his strong emotion.

“Well, this! Don’t ever say ‘sir’ to any human being 18 living! Don’t ever! Do you understand me? What I mean is, when you say ‘sir,’ it’s as if you were—as if you were a servant or afraid—you make yourself menial. Can you remember, child?”

18

“Yes, sir,—yes, I’ll remember.... I think I’ll remember.”

“If you’re going to accomplish anything in the world, don’t be afraid of any one.”

A dozen explanations, like so many birds, fluttered through Virginia’s mind. Before her rose her world of yesterday, and a sudden apology leapt to her lips. She turned on her father a wondering, sober glance.

“I’ve never said ‘sir’ or ‘ma’am’ before in all my life—never!” she remarked.

“So you’re afraid of me?”

“A little,” she sighed.

“Ah, don’t be, child! I’m your father. Will you keep that in mind?”

“I’ll try to; I will, sure.”

Mr. Singleton shifted uneasily, as if in pain.

“This money is coming to you when you’re eighteen years old,” explained Mr. Singleton. “My dying will throw you into an ocean of difficulties. I guess the only service I’ve ever done you has been to keep your Uncle Jordan from you.”

“Matty told me about him, too,” she offered. “He’s a damn bad duffer, isn’t he, mister?”

“Yes, and I’m going to ask you not to call me ‘mister,’ either. Look here!... I’m your father! Can’t anything get that into your head?”

“I keep forgetting it,” answered the girl sadly. “And you’re so big and thin and different from any man I know. You look as weak as a—as a cat.”

She stretched forth her two strong legs, but sank back. 19

19

“Yes, your Uncle Jordan is bad,” proceeded Singleton, presently, “bad enough to want to get us both out of the way, and he wouldn’t find much of an obstacle in you.”

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