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12 father of four girls. It was cruel. He dug spurs into her sides, and then held her in on the curb-bit. Oh, if she could only get it between her teeth!

She returned the volume she held to the top of the book-case, and walked over to the window. She stood staring out at a swinging arc-light at the corner of the street. Opposite to it there was a vacant building, covered with painted advertisements. One of the illumined signs suddenly caught Ada's attention.

"Amount to Something," it said. "Take Shorthand and Typewriting at Frye's Business College. Mornings, Afternoons or Evenings."

The sign had probably hung there for months, and stared into Ada's bedroom window, its message unread, unobserved by her. She smiled abruptly at the strange coincidence of the wording of the advertisement, "Amount to Something." She had flung a similar phrase at her father ten minutes ago. Was a knowledge of shorthand and typewriting a possible way to amount to something? How absurd!

But Aunt Harriet had told her once that she had dismissed her second maid and done the work herself, in order to own the little Meissonier, enshrined between two candles over the satinwood table from Italy. Was she, Ada, willing to labor for the vague something symbolized in the