"Then I wouldn't try, wife," said Marjorie's father, with his shrewd smile. "I'd let somebody that knows."
After a while, Marjorie's mother spoke again:
"I don't know that you help me any."
"I don't know that I can; girls are mysteries—you were a mystery once yourself. Marjorie can respond, but she will not respond, unless she has some one to respond to, or some thing to respond to. Towards myself I never find but one Marjorie!"
"That means that you always give her something to respond to!"
"Well, yes, something like it," he returned in one of Marjorie's contented tones.
"She'll have a good many heart aches before she's through, then," decided
Mrs. West, with some sharpness.
"Probably," said Marjorie's father with the shadow of a smile on his thin lips.