to despise myself, momma, for caring for him, when he's never really said
that he cared for me."

"No, no," her mother faltered.

"But I do, I do!" she gave way piteously. "I can't help it! He doesn't
say so, even now."

"No, he doesn't." It hurt her mother to own the fact that alone gave her
hope.

The girl was a long time silent again before she asked, "Has poppa got
the tickets?"

"Why, he wouldn't, Ellen, child, till he knew how you felt," her mother
tenderly reproached her.

"He'd better not wait!" The tears ran silently down Ellen's cheeks, and
her lips twitched a little between these words and the next; she spoke as
if it were still of her father, but her mother understood. "If he ever
does say so, don't you speak a word to me, momma; and don't you let
poppa."

"No; indeed I won't," her mother promised. "Have we ever interfered,
Ellen? Have we ever tried to control you?"

"He WOULD have said so, if he hadn't seen that everybody was against
him." The mother bore without reply the ingratitude and injustice that
she knew were from the child's pain and not from her will. "Where is his
letter? Give me his letter!" She nervously twitched it from her