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Rh California, to show me she's no mollycoddle," he said.

Ada kept striking letters just to make a noise, but she couldn't think. She couldn't see.

"I tell you," Marcus Belden announced, and Ada heard his fist come down hard on the desk, "I couldn't be prouder of that girl of mine, John, if she were Marcus Belden, Junior."

That night when Ada opened the door to her room she saw something had happened to it.

Most of the chairs had been tipped upside down, and each corner of the bed was decorated with a shoe. Her heart gave a bound of joy. It was a sign of the return of her father's frolicsomeness. He was down-stairs now.

She turned to go down to him, and then, slowly, she saw the catalogues. They were everywhere—along the top of the door-casing, a-perch the pillows, on the floor, suspended from the chandelier—catalogues; catalogues of every university, college, and institution of learning in the country. Their significance slowly dawned upon her.

"Father, oh, father!" she called, and rushed down-stairs.