"What did she say, Winifred?"
Mr. Barbour allowed himself to appear somewhat convinced by her statement. It would do her no real harm, and she would outgrow the vagary of such dreams as she grew older, according to his belief. Then, too, thoughts about her mother were for the good of the girl—an influence that should be encouraged.
"She told me to study hard and become a teacher—and——"
"Yes, dear—and, what?"
"Well, I've been thinking how to tell you—the last message was about you," said she, smiling up into her father's eyes.
"Are you at liberty to tell me?" he asked, bracing himself against the choking grief which suddenly seized him.
"Yes, indeed—but you mustn't mind her solicitude for your future. She thinks you are aging too rapidly and that you must find a way out of your sorrow. She asked me to give you more companionship, and to lead you into a firm belief of the hereafter. Your lack of sincere belief leaves a gap in the way of your communicating directly with her."
All this was said in a voice of sweet modulation and assuredness, a smile lighting up her face as she spoke. There was no question of her absolute convictions.
"What would you suggest, Winifred?" replied her father, his voice broken, and his eyes filmed with tears.
"I don't know, but mother thinks the waters of South Bay hold the solution. What could she mean by that?"