"Well, you can know her old secret for all I care," and Peggy started for the barn. Billy did not follow. He had thought of a plan. He would challenge Ken to a game of tennis. And he would let her beat him. Then he'd ask her very casually about her father and promise, on his scout's honor, not to tell a soul! The plan seemed good. He'd wait for her to come down.
In her room Keineth had opened the large white envelope. From inside she drew a sheet of paper upon which were written a few lines, and with it a blue envelope of very thin paper, addressed in her father's familiar handwriting. With a little cry she caught it up and kissed it again and again. Before she broke its seal she read what was written on the sheet which had enclosed it.
The few lines were signed "Faithfully, Woodrow Wilson." They began, "My dear little soldier girl," and they told her that it was with great pleasure he had forwarded her letter to her father and now returned to her its answer. He called it an honor to serve them both and expressed the hope that some day he might make her acquaintance and tell her how deeply he admired and respected her father.
Keineth merely glanced at the lines. What mattered it to her that they had been written by the President of the United States! Did she not hold tightly in her fingers a letter from her Daddy?
"My precious child," it began. Keineth had suddenly to brush her eyes in order to see the letters. "Your letter found me at one of my many stopping places. It brought to me a breath of home. I shut myself in my room and read and reread it, and it seemed to bring back the old room and the chair that could always hold us both. I could hear your voice, too. I miss you terribly, little girl, but I thank God daily that you are well and happy and with good friends.
"I have travelled through many lands of which I will have much to tell you. I have been in the Far East--poor Tante would have wept with joy over the beauty of the Flowery Kingdom. I have bowed before enough emperors and kings to make my poor back ache. Do you remember how you used to rub the kinks out of it? I have spent hours and hours with the great men of the world. I have seen wonderful beauty and glorious sunshine. (How I'd like to ship some of it to old New York.) And I have seen ugly things, too. We shall have great times when we are together again, childy, telling one another the stories of these days we have been parted. You shall tell me something first and then I will tell you. It will take us hours and days and weeks.
"Now I am going in my wanderings to other lands that are black with the horror of war. I shall have to witness the suffering it brings to the homes and I will be more glad than I can tell that my baby is far from its pain.
"I have learned in these wanderings of mine that it is in the children this old world must place its trust. That if they want a better government they must give to the little ones all that is pure and clean and honest and good and see to it that they are happy. I feel like shouting it from the housetops--'Make them happy!' It doesn't take much.
"I feel your big, wondering eyes on mine--you do not understand! Ah, well, girlie, all I mean is--romp and play--build up a strong little body for that heart of yours--see things that are clean and good, and whatever the game is--play square!
"We cannot be grateful enough to the dear Lees for all they are doing for us. Try and return their kindness with loyalty. I will write later to Mrs. Lee in regard to the plans for the fall. Do whatever she thinks best. You will stay with them until I return. Just when that will be I cannot tell now, but you must be brave. Your courage helps me, too, my dear.