"KEN--a letter!"

Billy rushed toward the garden waving a large square envelope over his head.

Keineth and Peggy were weeding their flower bed. Keineth dropped her hoe quickly to seize the letter.

"It's from Washington, and it's got a seal on it like the seal of the United States!" exclaimed Billy.

"Oh, let me see!" cried Peggy.

Keineth had taken the letter. Looking from one to the other, she held it close to her.

"I--I can't--it's from the President, I guess--" A wave of embarrassment seized her and she stopped short, wishing that she might run away with her treasure.

"The President--writing to you! Oh, say--" Billy snorted in derision.

Peggy, offended at Keineth's shyness, turned her back upon her. "I don't want to see your letter, anyway," she said ungraciously.

"Oh, please--I'd love to show it, only--I promised--" Then, as Peggy gave no sign of relenting, Keineth walked slowly toward the house with her letter.

"I think Keineth's mean to have secrets," and Peggy dug her hoe savagely into the ground. "She acts so mysterious about her father and I'll bet it isn't anything at all!"

"But that letter was from the President, I guess! Gee whiz, think of getting a letter really from him! I wish I was Ken!"

"It's nothing! Anyone can be President--I mean, any man!"

"Just the same, mother told me that some day we would be very proud of knowing Keineth's father. She wouldn't tell me any more. I'll bet it would be awful interesting to know him! There's something certainly queer about how no one knows where he is! I guess I'll ask Ken to tell me just a little bit. I can keep a secret."

"Well, you can know her old secret for all I care," and Peggy started for the barn. Billy did not follow. He had thought of a plan. He would challenge Ken to a game of tennis. And he would let her beat him. Then he'd ask her very casually about her father and promise, on his scout's honor, not to tell a soul! The plan seemed good. He'd wait for her to come down.

In her room Keineth had opened the large white envelope. From inside she drew a sheet of paper upon which were written a few lines, and with it a blue envelope of very thin paper, addressed in her father's familiar handwriting. With a little cry she caught it up and kissed it again and again. Before she broke its seal she read what was written on the sheet which had enclosed it.

The few lines were signed "Faithfully, Woodrow Wilson." They began, "My dear little soldier girl," and they told her that it was with great pleasure he had forwarded her letter to her father and now returned to her its answer. He called it an honor to serve them both and expressed the hope that some day he might make her acquaintance and tell her how deeply he admired and respected her father.

Keineth merely glanced at the lines. What mattered it to her that they had been written by the President of the United States! Did she not hold tightly in her fingers a letter from her Daddy?

"My precious child," it began. Keineth had suddenly to brush her eyes in order to see the letters. "Your letter found me at one of my many stopping places. It brought to me a breath of home. I shut myself in my room and read and reread it, and it seemed to bring back the old room and the chair that could always hold us both. I could hear your voice, too. I miss you terribly, little girl, but I thank God daily that you are well and happy and with good friends.

"I have travelled through many lands of which I will have much to tell you. I have been in the Far East--poor Tante would have wept with joy over the beauty of the Flowery Kingdom. I have bowed before enough emperors and kings to make my poor back ache. Do you remember how you used to rub the kinks out of it? I have spent hours and hours with the great men of the world. I have seen wonderful beauty and glorious sunshine. (How I'd like to ship some of it to old New York.) And I have seen ugly things, too. We shall have great times when we are together again, childy, telling one another the stories of these days we have been parted. You shall tell me something first and then I will tell you. It will take us hours and days and weeks.

"Now I am going in my wanderings to other lands that are black with the horror of war. I shall have to witness the suffering it brings to the homes and I will be more glad than I can tell that my baby is far from its pain.

"I have learned in these wanderings of mine that it is in the children this old world must place its trust. That if they want a better government they must............