"But I'm not at all sure that she could do anything they would take." "My dear daddy!" cried Janet resentfully.

"Wait till she tries! You said yourself that some of those scraps she sent us in Scotland were delicious." "So they were.

She has a curious, prismatic kind of mind--" "Soul, daddy." "Soul, if you like.

It reflects quite wonderfully, the angles at which it finds itself with the world are so unusual.

But I doubt her power, you know, of construction or cohesion, or anything of that kind." "I don't," Janet returned confidently.