immoral conduct a secret to you. As long as you fail in your courage to talk before him about the decent, helpful and necessary pleasures which you share with your loyal wife and his sweet mother, how can you expect him to mention before you his indecent, unhealthful and unessential relations with the women of the street! How many boys, who are slowly being poisoned by harlots, remain mute in the presence of their parents, because their parents have never approached the subject of sexual intercourse before them! And think how many a boy might have been saved had he received a word of warning from his father or mother before he received the initiation from his first temptress!

As soon as a boy reaches the age when he becomes curious, these things should be the foremost topic of conversation between him and his father, and it is the father and not the son who should encourage this conversation. I believe immoral fathers are far more willing to start their sons on crooked paths than moral fathers are willing to start their sons on straight ones. How timid we are about mentioning our rectitude! Is rectitude a thing to be ashamed of? Take hold of your son, bashful father and mother, and explain to him the act which brought him into the world. Begin if you wish-as did Alice Milton-by speaking of the flowers and the birds, but conclude your discussion by referring to your own personal relation with the good woman whom God gave you as wife and him as mother. It is nothing but secrecy which makes this relation seem shameful to you and to him. Tell him all openly, and he will respect and love you; and that respect and love will do much to guard him from the illegitimate and immoral conduct which may lead to the disrespect for his own wife, the imperfection of his children, and the ruination of the peace and of the happiness of his home.

CHAPTER V

THE FLEDGELING IS CALLED AWAY FROM THE NEST

Paul Milton completed his course at High School with honors and was presented with a free scholarship for the continuation of his studies at the university. The scholarship was said to have come from the alumni who resided in Norford, but, as a matter of fact, it was a personal gift from Mr. Bennett, although few persons knew it.

Allaine by this time had grown to be a beautiful young woman. She was slender, graceful and sensible. She had inherited all the beauty of form and color which had attracted Mr. Bennett to her mother, but, in addition to these, she had acquired mental qualities which were far in advance of those of his wife, and which revealed personality and character, giving strength and permanence to the opalescent and seemingly fragile shell which encased them.

Her observations on persons and things were not superficial. She studied them thoroughly trying to discover their true nature and purpose. Her mother's social interests had never appealed to her very strongly, and now they seemed more shallow, more ostentatious and sillier than ever. It was toward her father that she had a natural inclination, because he had rescued Allaine from the freaks and frivolities in which the mother had planned to feature her. Mr. Bennett adored and worshiped her. Each day seemed to bring them closer. She became a true helpmate, and shared his interest in the enlightenment of the povertystricken inhabitants of Norford.

It was not the distribution of wealth that occupied Mr. Wallace Bennett's time and mind; it was the distribution of knowledge. In fact he had come to the conclusion that

knowledge was the only true wealth, and that those who had acquired it were far richer than those whose first and only treasure was gold. Money, to his mind, became valuable only when used for intellectual and common-sense purposes. Material possessions, beyond those essential for comfortable existence, were mere luxuries which dwarfed the development of the mind-the opportunity which God gave man in order that he might be superior to the beast. The flabby-minded well-to-do, who decorated their fiftychambered mansions with imported bric-a-brac and tapestries, who decorated their bodies with gaudy satins and expensive laces, and who ate a ten-course meal three or four times a day, were, to him, objects of pity. What good was all their wealth if they hadn't enough brains to know how to spend it! He considered them just as unfortunate as those who had no money whatever. Since money alone had made the rich neither wiser nor better, it would likewise fail to improve the poor. Both classes were hungry and miserable, because they knew nothing; the poor were hungry for food; the rich were hungry for contentment. Money and food might bring temporary relief to the poor just as it had to the rich, but education was needed to do permanent good for both classes.

Allaine was not so brilliant as Paul Milton, but had it not been for the influence which his presence exerted over her childish emotions (for children have emotions) when he sat opposite her in the classroom-had it not been for this, she might have graduated with his class, although perhaps not with honors.

She had indeed lost a whole year of school on that account, but she decided it was better so; for although she still loved Paul secretly, nevertheless the love had grown more noble and womanly. It was not the giddy affection of a silly school girl; it was a love to help him along with. his life's work, not a love to hinder him by selfishly attracting his attention with invitations to parties and with heartshaped cakes bearing her own name. She was very glad they were no longer in the same class and room at school,

lest her constant presence reveal the mature sentiment. True, he had ignored her when he was still a child; but he was now approaching manhood, and it was not improbable that, were he to discover the deep interest and yearning hidden in the heart of this beautiful and sensible girl, it might awaken a passion which would stand in the way of his ambition and check the career which God had offered him. This would have broken the girl's heart completely. She was willing to suffer being separated from him, but she refused to perish simultaneously with his career. She longed to see him big and great. She wanted to help him accomplish something worth while-perhaps a great reform. Toward that end she would also devote her life assisting him in every way she could. But her assistance, like her love, must be a secret to him. It must be impersonal. He must not know how she was using her influence to place opportunities in his path and to spur him on to great deeds.

It was indeed through Allaine that Mr. Wallace Bennett. representing "The Alumni," had presented Paul Milton with the free scholarship.

"You are interested in the education of the poor, aren't you?" asked Allaine Bennett of her father one day, as they sat in the library while Mrs. Bennett was out calling on Mrs. Samson Pokes.

"Yes," answered the father, that afternoon, "I am deeply interested in the education of the poor-far more than in the education of the rich. The rich do not wish to be educated. They like to display their ignorance and lack of judgment. The rich need reform, and it is only through the poor that the reform will come about, providing we give the poor the opportunity. When I attended the university, Allaine, I considered it a waste of time to be interested in books. I could see no object in solving problems, performing experiments, writing themes, translating foreign literature and reading Shakespeare and Tennyson. What good were such things to me when I was receiving my monthly allowance from home, which enabled me to entertain my friends royally at the theatres and the taverns? I knew

my parents were wealthy, I knew they had far more than they needed for themselves. I saw that my future was provided for, so why should I work over books when I was offered a life of everlasting pleasure? Furthermore, my father himself told me to enjoy life while it lasted-to take things easy; and, thrown, as I was, among epicureans, it was only natural that I should join them in their frolics. and deride learning and intellect.

"I shudder now when I recall some of the things we did. Were I to tell you, Allaine, I fear you would not care to call me your father. I often look at you and wonder why God blessed me with so sweet a daughter instead of punishing me for the lawless manner in which I abused His sacred power. I marvel that His verdict has not been scrawled across your fair forehead to remind me constantly of the sins of my youth. A child of one of my classmates was born blind and covered with festering sores. God, Allaine! think if this suffering had been inflicted upon you."

Great

Mr. Bennett fell back in his chair, covering his eyes. as though horror-stricken. It seemed he could not bear to gaze upon and feared to touch, at that moment, the clear face of his daughter, which was crowned with a halo of bright golden hair. But Allaine drew his hands away and looked with pity and forgiveness into the eyes which they had hidden from her.

"God is good," she said softly. "God forgives. Perhaps it was He who sent you among these men that you might learn their need of reform. Perhaps He protected your body and mind that you might live to inspire other men to reform their unfortunate brothers."

"But why did he allow me to be dragged through the mire?" replied the father. "I could have known without practicing it. Had I been strong, I would have tried to save the boys who were tempting me, instead of allowing them to draw me under. Oh, I was weak. And why was I weak? Because I was ignorant. I refused to learn; I refused to use my brain and my reason. I tossed my books