That girl is the daughter of the poor fellow--" "Sam Kimper ?--that you and father talk of so frequently?
Yes, I know; she was a horrid little thing in school, two classes below me.

But, mother, I don't see why we ought to recognize her just because her father has been in the penitentiary and behaved himself since he came back." "Because she _needs_ recognition, dear child; because she gets it from plenty of people of her own class, and if she has it from no others she never will be any better than she is; perhaps she will become worse." "Oh, mother!" exclaimed Eleanor, with a toss of her handsome head, "such people never change.

There were plenty of such girls in the same class with me in the public school, and they've all gone off and married common low fellows.

Some of them were real pretty girls while they were young, too." "All the more reason why others of the same kind should have some encouragement to do better, my child." "But, mother," persisted Eleanor, "what possible good will it do that Kimper girl for us merely to recognize her in the street ?" "You may do as much more for her as you choose, if you think mere courtesy is not enough.

Eleanor, you are a healthy, happy girl; you know--and I remember--all a girl's natural fancies and longings.