Little Martha Kenworthy, to use her own careless expression, was "in bad with her dad," as usual. But she was not a girl to be disturbed by a trifle of that sort. She had been home only a few days from her college in the east for her second summer holiday, and had been followed too closely by official comments on her term's work. The only explanation she saw fit to give to her father on that subject was to the effect that he should forget it. Her mother had taken him aside and said privately, firmly, and coaxingly: "Now, Bob, I'm not going to have that child's life made miserable by somebody else's brilliance. It isn't Martha's fault that she hasn't phenomenal brains. I'm not going to…
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