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CHAPTER 6

Priority Queues (Heaps)

6.1 Yes. When an element is inserted, we compare it to the current minimum and change the minimum if the new

element is smaller. deleteMin operations are expensive in this scheme.

6.2

6.3 The result of three deleteMins, starting with both of the heaps in Exercise 6.2, is as follows:

6.4 (a) 4N

(b) O(N2)

(c) O(N4.1)

(d) O(2N)

6.5
/**
* Insert item x, allowing duplicates.
*/
 void insert( const Comparable & x )
{
if( currentSize == array.size( ) - 1 )
array.resize( array.size( ) * 2 );
// Percolate up
int hole = ++currentSize;
for( ; hole > 1 && x < array[ hole / 2 ]; hole /= 2 )
array[ hole ] = array[ hole / 2 ];
array[0] = array[ hole ] = x;
}

6.6 225. To see this, start with i = 1 and position at the root. Follow the path toward the last node, doubling i

when taking a left child, and doubling i and adding one when taking a right child.

6.7 (a) We show that H(N), which is the sum of the heights of nodes in a complete binary tree of N nodes, is

N − b(N), where b(N) is the number of ones in the binary representation of N. Observe that for N = 0 and

N = 1, the claim is true. Assume that it is true for values of k up to and including N − 1. Suppose the left and

right subtrees have L and R nodes, respectively. Since the root has height  log N  , we have

H (N ) = log N  + H (L) + H (R )
= log N  + L − b(L) + R − b(R)
= N − 1 + (  Log N  − b(L) − b(R) )

The second line follows from the inductive hypothesis, and the third follows because L + R = N − 1. Now the

last node in the tree is in either the left subtree or the right subtree. If it is in the left subtree, then the right

subtree is a perfect tree, and b(R) = log N  − 1 . Further, the binary representation of N and L are identical,

with the exception that the leading 10 in N becomes 1 in L. (For instance, if N = 37 = 100101, L = 10101.) It

is clear that the second digit of N must be zero if the last node is in the left subtree. Thus in this case,

b(L) = b(N), and

H(N) = N − b(N)

If the last node is in the right subtree, then b(L) =  log N  . The binary representation of R is identical to

N, except that the leading 1 is not present. (For instance, if N = 27 = 101011, L = 01011.) Thus

b(R) = b(N) − 1, and again

H(N) = N − b(N)
 (b) Run a single-elimination tournament among eight elements. This requires seven comparisons and

generates ordering information indicated by the binomial tree shown here.

The eighth comparison is between b and c. If c is less than b, then b is made a child of c. Otherwise, both

c and d are made children of b.

(c) A recursive strategy is used. Assume that N = 2k. A binomial tree is built for the N elements as in part (b).

The largest subtree of the root is then recursively converted into a binary heap of 2 k − 1 elements. The last

element in the heap (which is the only one on an extra level) is then inserted into the binomial queue

consisting of the remaining binomial trees, thus forming another binomial tree of 2 k − 1 elements. At that

point, the root has a subtree that is a heap of 2 k − 1 − 1 elements and another subtree that is a binomial tree of

2k−1 elements. Recursively convert that subtree into a heap; now the whole structure is a binary heap. The

running time for N = 2k satisfies T(N) = 2T(N/2) + log N. The base case is T(8) = 8.

6.8 a) Since each element in a min heap has children whose elements are greater than the value in the
element itself, the maximum element has no children and is a leaf.

c) Since the maximum element can be any leaf (the position of a node is determined entirely by the
value of its parent and children), all leaves must be examined to find the maximum value in a min
heap.

6.9 Let D1, D2, . . . ,Dk be random variables representing the depth of the smallest, second smallest, and kth

smallest elements, respectively. We are interested in calculating E(Dk). In what follows, we assume that the

heap size N is one less than a power of two (that is, the bottom level is completely filled) but sufficiently

large so that terms bounded by O(1/N) are negligible. Without loss of generality, we may assume that the kth

smallest element is in the left subheap of the root. Let pj, k be the probability that this element is the jth

smallest element in the subheap.

Lemma.
 k −1
For k > 1, E (Dk ) =  p j ,k (E (D j ) + 1) .
j =1

Proof.

An element that is at depth d in the left subheap is at depth d + 1 in the entire subheap. Since

E(Dj + 1) = E(Dj) + 1, the theorem follows.

Since by assumption, the bottom level of the heap is full, each of second, third, . . . , k − 1th smallest

elements are in the left subheap with probability of 0.5. (Technically, the probability should be half − 1/(N −

1) of being in the right subheap and half + 1/(N − 1) of being in the left, since we have already placed the kth

smallest in the right. Recall that we have assumed that terms of size O(1/N) can be ignored.) Thus

1  k − 2
p j ,k = pk − j ,k = k −2  
2  j −1 

Theorem.

E(Dk)  log k.

Proof.

The proof is by induction. The theorem clearly holds for k = 1 and k = 2. We then show that it holds for

arbitrary k > 2 on the assumption that it holds for all smaller k. Now, by the inductive hypothesis, for any

1  j  k − 1,

E (D j ) + E (Dk − j )  log j + log k − j

Since f(x) = log x is convex for x > 0,

log j + log k − j  2 log ( k 2 )

Thus

E (D j ) + E (Dk − j )  log( k 2 ) + log ( k 2 )

Furthermore, since pj, k = pk − j, k,

p j ,k E (D j ) + pk − j ,k E (Dk − j )  p j ,k log ( k 2 ) + pk − j ,k log ( k 2 )

From the lemma,

 k −1
E (Dk ) =  p j , k (E (D j ) + 1)
j =1
k −1
=1+  p j, k E(D j )
j =1

Thus

k −1
E ( Dk )  1 +  p j , k log ( k 2)
j =1
k −1
 1 + log ( k 2)  p j , k
j =1

 1 + log ( k 2)
 log k

completing the proof.

It can also be shown that asymptotically, E(Dk)  log(k − 1) − 0.273548.

6.10 (a) Perform a preorder traversal of the heap.

(b) Works for leftist and skew heaps. The running time is O(Kd) for d-heaps.

6.12 Simulations show that the linear time algorithm is the faster, not only on worst-case inputs, but also on

random data.

6.13 (a) If the heap is organized as a (min) heap, then starting at the hole at the root, find a path down to a leaf by

taking the minimum child. The requires roughly log N comparisons. To find the correct place where to move

the hole, perform a binary search on the log N elements. This takes O(log log N) comparisons.

(b) Find a path of minimum children, stopping after log N − log log N levels. At this point, it is easy to

determine if the hole should be placed above or below the stopping point. If it goes below, then continue

finding the path, but perform the binary search on only the last log log N elements on the path, for a total of

log N + log log log N comparisons. Otherwise, perform a binary search on the first log N − log log N

elements. The binary search takes at most log log N comparisons, and the path finding took only log N − log

log N, so the total in this case is log N. So the worst case is the first case.

(c) The bound can be improved to log N + log*N + O(1), where log*N is the inverse Ackerman function (see

Chapter 8). This bound can be found in reference [17].

6.14 The parent is at position (i + d − 2) d  . The children are in positions (i − 1)d + 2, . . . , id + 1.

6.15 (a) O((M + d N) logd N).

 (b) O((M + N) log N).

(c) O(M + N2).

(d) d = max(2, M/N). (See the related discussion at the end of Section 11.4.)

6.16 Starting from the second most signficant digit in i, and going toward the least significant digit, branch left for

0s, and right for 1s.

6.17 (a) Place negative infinity as a root with the two heaps as subtrees. Then do a deleteMin.

(b) Place negative infinity as a root with the larger heap as the left subheap, and the smaller heap as the right

subheap. Then do a deleteMin.

(c) SKETCH: Split the larger subheap into smaller heaps as follows: on the left-most path, remove two

subheaps of height r − 1, then one of height r, r + 1, and so one, until l − 2. Then merge the trees, going

smaller to higher, using the results of parts (a) and (b), with the extra nodes on the left path substituting for

the insertion of infinity, and subsequent deleteMin.

6.18 a. The minimum element will be the root. The maximum element will be one of the two children of the root.

b. Place the new element in the last open position (as in a regular heap). Now compare it to its parent. Now if
the new element was inserted into a max(min) row and was less (greater) than its parent. Then swap it with
its parent and now it need only be compared to other min elements and bubbled up min elements. If it is
greater (less) than its parent it need only be compared to other max elements bubbled up using the max
elements.

c) For a min deletion, remove the root . Let the last element in the heap be x . If the root has no children, then
x becomes the root. If find m the minimum child or grandchild of the root. If k Y m, then x becomes the
root. Other wise if m is the child of the root the m becomes the root and x is inserted in place of m. Finally if
m is the grandchild of the root, then m is moved to the root and if p is the parent of m, then if x > is p, then p
and x are interchanged.

d) yes. (see Atkinson et al., Min-Max Heaps and Generalized Priority Queues, Programming Techniques
and Data Structures, Vol 29, No. 10, pp. 996 - 1000, 1986.)
6.20

6.21 This theorem is true, and the proof is very much along the same lines as Exercise 4.20.

6.22 If elements are inserted in decreasing order, a leftist heap consisting of a chain of left children is formed. This

is the best because the right path length is minimized.

6.23 (a) If a decreaseKey is performed on a node that is very deep (very left), the time to percolate up would be

prohibitive. Thus the obvious solution doesn’t work. However, we can still do the operation efficiently by a

combination of remove and insert. To remove an arbitrary node x in the heap, replace x by the merge of its

left and right subheaps. This might create an imbalance for nodes on the path from x’s parent to the root that

would need to be fixed by a child swap. However, it is easy to show that at most logN nodes can be affected,

preserving the time bound.

This is discussed in Chapter 11.

6.24 Lazy deletion in leftist heaps is discussed in the paper by Cheriton and Tarjan [10]. The general idea is that if

the root is marked deleted, then a preorder traversal of the heap is formed, and the frontier of marked nodes is

removed, leaving a collection of heaps. These can be merged two at a time by placing all the heaps on a

queue, removing two, merging them, and placing the result at the end of the queue, terminating when only

one heap remains.

6.25 (a) The standard way to do this is to divide the work into passes. A new pass begins when the first element

reappears in a heap that is dequeued. The first pass takes roughly 2*1*(N/2) time units because there are N/2

merges of trees with one node each on the right path. The next pass takes 2*2*(N/4) time units because of the

roughly N/4 merges of trees with no more than two nodes on the right path. The third pass takes 2*3*(N/8)

time units, and so on. The sum converges to 4N.

(b) It generates heaps that are more leftist.

6.26

6.27

6.28 This claim is also true, and the proof is similar in spirit to Exercise 4.20 or 6.21.

6.29 Yes. All the single operation estimates in Exercise 6.25 become amortized instead of worst-case, but by the

definition of amortized analysis, the sum of these estimates is a worst-case bound for the sequence.

6.30 Clearly the claim is true for k = 1. Suppose it is true for all values i = 1, 2, . . . , k. A Bk + 1 tree is formed by

attaching a Bk tree to the root of a Bk tree. Thus by induction, it contains a B0 through Bk − 1 tree, as well as the

newly attached Bk tree, proving the claim.

6.31 Proof is by induction. Clearly the claim is true for k = 1. Assume true for all values i = 1, 2, . . . ,k. A Bk + 1

k 
tree is formed by attaching a Bk tree to the original Bk tree. The original thus had   nodes at depth d. The
d 

 k 
attached tree had   nodes at depth d−1, which are now at depth d. Adding these two terms and using a
 d − 1

well-known formula establishes the theorem.

6.32

6.33 This is established in Chapter 11.

6.34

template<typename Comparable>
struct BiQueNode
{
Comparable item;
vector<BiQueNode *> pointers;
BiQueNode<Comparable> (Comparable e) : item(e) {}
};
template <typename Comparable>
class BinomalQue
{
private:
vector<BiQueNode<Comparable>> biQue;
};

template <typename Comparable>

BiQueNode<Comparable> * combine(BiQueNode<Comparable> * p, BiQueNode<Comparable> * q)
{
if (p->item < q->item)
{
p->pointers.push_back(q);
return p;
}
else
{
q->pointers.push_back(p);
return q;
}
}

template <typename Comparable>

BiQueNode<Comparable> * insert(Comparable v)
{
 BiQueNode<Comparable> * t = new BiQueNode<Comparable> v;
BiQueNode<Comparable> * c = t;
for (int i = 0; i <= biQue.size(); i++)
{
if (c == nullptr) break;
if (i == biQue.size() -1)
biQue.push_back(nullptr);
if (biQue[i] == nullptr)
{ biQue[i] = c; break;}
c = combine(c, bq[i]);
bique[i] = null;
}
return t;
}

6.37

/*
Bin packing
*/
#include <vector>
#include <queue>
using namespace std;
const double Cap = 1.0;
class Bins
{
private:
vector<double> bins;
priority_queue<double> heapBins;
public:
Bins(int size = 0)
{bins.resize(size);
for (int i = 0; i < size; i++)
bins[i] = 0;
}
void clear() {bins.clear();}
int size(){ return bins.size();}
void insertFirstFit(double item) // a.
{
for (int i = 0; i < bins.size(); i++)
if (bins[i] + item < Cap)
{
bins[i] += item;
return;
}
bins.push_back(item);
}
int insertWorstFit(double item) // b
{
static int size = 0;
double maxRoom;
if (heapBins.empty())
heapBins.push(Cap - item);
else
{
maxRoom = heapBins.top();
if (maxRoom > item) // there is room
{
 heapBins.pop();
heapBins.push(maxRoom - item);
}
else
{heapBins.push(Cap - item);
size++;
}
}
return size;
}
void insertBestFit(double item) // c
{
double gap =Cap;
int gapIndex = -1;
if (bins.size() == 0)
bins.push_back(item);
else
{
for (int i = 0; i < bins.size(); i++)
if (bins[i]+item < Cap && bins[i]+item < gap)
{
gap = Cap - bins[i] - item;
gapIndex = i;
}
if (gapIndex < 0)
bins.push_back(item);
else
bins[gapIndex] += item;
}
}
};

d. yes

6.38 Don’t keep the key values in the heap, but keep only the difference between the value of the key in a node

and the value of the parent’s key.

6.39 O(N + k log N) is a better bound than O(N log k). The first bound is O(N) if k = O(N/log N). The second

bound is more than this as soon as k grows faster than a constant. For the other values (N/log N) = k = (N),

the first bound is better. When k = (N), the bounds are identical.
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objected to her presence in the sick-room with the unreasoning
vehemence of the delirious. It was impossible to dismiss Miss Graves
without some valid excuse, and equally impossible to secure another
nurse in Auburn. So most of the care devolved upon Barbara, much
to David’s satisfaction, for he called constantly for his sister, and
seemed most contented when her hands smoothed the hot pillow or
gave the sleeping-draught.
To the management of the housework, Barbara gave little
thought. Meals were scarcely an incident in those days of waiting.
Little by little, as conditions grew graver in the invalid’s room,
Barbara gave up more and more of her household duties, yet she
was vaguely aware that things went on like clockwork downstairs.
The meals that appeared upon the table were delicious, and yet
Susan’s part in them was not obvious. She slipped in and out of the
house at all hours, always bringing comfort with her, and yet
bestowing it so quietly that it seemed the gift of a beneficent fairy.
Every critical thing that Barbara had ever said of the provincialism
and officiousness of Auburn folk came back to her during these days
of trouble. When Mrs. Willowby came with advice or encouragement,
when the Enderby children brought home David’s school-books,
when Miss Pettibone came running “across lots” with beef tea or a
plate of doughnuts, when Mr. Ritter pressed his telephone into
service, and agreed to carry all messages, that the sick child might
not be disturbed, when even Miss Bates stopped at the door to
inquire affectionately about the invalid, and when all the town
combined to keep the news from Mrs. Grafton, Barbara’s conscience
was stricken. Her heart warmed with gratitude, and the meaning of
the word neighborliness was, for the first time, made clear to her.
And yet, with all the kindliness and helpfulness that Auburn could
bestow, there was plenty left for the girl to do. It was Barbara who
answered the door, who took the messages, who encouraged the
children, who cheered Jack, who comforted her father, who assisted
the nurse, who was brave when conditions were most discouraging,
and sunny when the clouds hung lowest. And it was Barbara, too,
who sat beside the bed, ready to rub the aching side or smooth the
feverish brow, and who met, with a sinking heart, the
discouragement that each day brought.

It was the middle of October before the crisis came. An early frost
had stripped the flower beds, withered the vines, and left the yard
bare. Barbara, looking out of the window through a blur of rain, on
the day when David’s fever was highest, was vaguely relieved by the
desolation outside. Sunshine out of doors would have been a
mockery. She stood with her back toward the bed and her face
toward the street, but her eyes saw nothing but the wasted little
form that tossed restlessly to and fro, and her ears heard only the
heavy breathing, broken, now and then, by a moan. Miss Graves had
gone to get a few hours’ sleep to fortify herself for the vigil of the
night, and Dr. Grafton, in the next room, was consulting with Dr.
Curtis. The house was so still that their low voices were plainly
audible. The words were not distinct, but the discouraged note in
her father’s speech fell heavily upon the girl’s heart. “They are
afraid,” she said to herself.
She turned from the desolate window to the bed, and with pale
lips and dry eyes gazed down at the little brother. David tossed
restlessly upon his pillow, and called aloud for Barbara.
“I’m here, dear,” said the girl, taking the small, hot hand in hers;
but the boy flung it away with a strange strength.
“I want Barbara,” he cried.
At the sound of the hoarse voice, Dr. Grafton hurried back into
the room, followed by Dr. Curtis. And then began a fight with death
that Barbara never forgot. Pushed aside as merely an onlooker, the
girl watched, with a sort of curiosity, the man that she saw for the
first time in her life. The father she had always known had vanished;
in his place was the skilled physician, who seemed to have thought
for the patient rather than the son. The two doctors worked like one
machine,—fighting the fever back step by step, beating it, choking it,
quenching it; pitting against it strength and science and skill. And
when it finally succumbed, and David was snatched from the
burning, a poor little wasted wraith of life, Barbara understood the
worship that Dr. Grafton’s patients gave him.
“We’ve won out,” he said. “The fever’s left the boy. Now if we can
only keep him alive to-night—”

The shadows of evening were heavy in the room as Miss Graves’s

starchiness sounded along the hall. She went at once to the bedside,
and laid her hand on the boy’s forehead. Then she looked quickly up
at the doctor. In that glance Barbara read the whole story,—it was a
question, now, of vitality.
Susan herself brought up the tray of supper to Barbara, who tried
to eat it in order to seem appreciative. But the rolls and the creamed
chicken were sent back untasted, and she could not even find words
to reply to the unworded sympathy in Susan’s good-night. The old
habit of gesture comes back in times of deepest emotion, and both
girls understood, without need of words, Susan’s reassuring pat of
the shoulder, and Barbara’s tight grasp of the hand.
“Go to bed, children,” said Dr. Grafton, as he came out of the sick-
room to the hall where Barbara and Jack stood together. “We need
absolute quiet and plenty of air for the boy. There’ll be no change for
several hours, and you want all the sleep you can get.”
“I can’t sleep,” protested Jack.
“But you can rest, and you must do it,” answered his father. “We
may need you both—later.”
“You’ll call us,” said Jack, “if—”
“Yes,” said his father, “I will.”
 Jack turned, without a word, to his own room, and Barbara heard
him throw himself on the bed with a half-stifled moan. She herself
opened her bedroom door and went in. Sleep was out of the
question. She fell upon her knees beside her couch and prayed,—an
inarticulate, broken cry for the help that is beyond human power.
Then she lighted her little night lamp, and sat down before her desk
with a volume of Emerson in her hand. She turned to the essay on
Compensation, and read, her eyes seeking and finding the detached
sentences that seemed written for her:—
We cannot part with our friends. We cannot let our angels go.
We do not see that they only go out that archangels may come
in. . . . We cannot again find aught so dear, so sweet, so graceful.
But we sit and weep in vain. . . . The death of a dear . . . brother
. . . breaks up a wonted occupation, or a household. . . . But . . .
the man or woman who would have remained a sunny garden
flower with no room for its roots and too much sunshine for its
head, by the falling of the walls and the neglect of the gardener is
made the banian of the forest, yielding shade and fruit to wide
neighborhoods of men.

Barbara dropped the book hastily. “There’s no compensation in

that!” she said bitterly. Then she picked up a bit of paper, and put
the cry of her heart into a few crude words.
Her father, coming into the room two hours later, found her there
at her desk, her tear-stained face bowed on her arms. The pencil
was still in her hand. Dr. Grafton touched her shoulder gently, but
the girl did not waken. He hesitated for a moment, hoping for the
right words to tell her, and as he did so his eyes fell upon the
crumpled paper before him. It read:—
 THE BANIAN TREE
The flower grows beside the wall,—
A little, sheltered thing,
And over it the sunbeams fall
And merry linnets sing.
No usefulness it has in life
So weak it is, and small,
And yet how happily it grows
Beside the shielding wall.

The banian tree grows tall and straight,

It sends its branches wide;
Beneath its shade the pilgrims wait,
The travelers abide.
They praise it, lying on the sward;
But what is that to me?
Forgive me, Lord; but it is hard
To be a banian tree!

The doctor’s eyes filled. “Thank God,” he said, “she won’t have to
be, this time!”
 CHAPTER XII
THE END OF THE INTERREGNUM

T HE Grafton children stood in a row, watching their father and

Barbara establish David in the big Morris chair, on the occasion
of his first trip downstairs. Joy and awe were struggling for
supremacy in their hearts, but were carefully concealed after the
fashion of young America.
“Well, David,” said Jack, jocularly, “you look just exactly like a
collapsed balloon. Remember how nice and round you used to be?
Now, hurry up and get there again. It was becoming.”
“He reminds me of the pictures of the famine-sufferers in India,”
remarked Gassy. “How their ribs did stick out, and how funny their
hands were,—like claws.”
“David looks to me like the sweetest small boy ever made,” said
Barbara, quietly, as she bent down to kiss the pale lips of the little
fellow, and tucked the afghan around him more closely.
“Puzzle,—find David!” called Jack. And indeed, the child seemed
lost in the huge chair, his wasted little face wearing a faint smile of
contentment at being the centre of so much attention.
“If you children continue to talk so loudly, you will have to leave,”
said Dr. Grafton, as he prepared to depart. “Barbara, you will see
that David has all the quiet he needs, of course.”
The Kid raised himself from the floor, where he had been
wriggling in the imaginary likeness of a boa constrictor.
“Everybody talks about David,” he said jealously. “Aren’t I the
baby any more?”
 “You’ll always be a baby,” consoled Jack; “a great big baby, even
when you are as old as I am. So don’t worry.”
Gassy laughed, and the Kid looked puzzled. “Babies always cry,”
he said reflectively.
“Yes?” said Jack.
“Then you must be a baby too,” added the Kid, with triumph,
“’cause I saw you cry when we first saw David. I didn’t cry at all.”
“No, you young sinner,” returned his elder brother. “You’ve made a
picnic of the whole thing. I’ll bet a cookie you’ve had a good half of
every bit of food that has been sent to David. Hasn’t he, Barbara?”
“People have been very kind,” said his sister, disregarding his
question. “But really, if Miss Bates brings another installment of
preserved plums, I don’t know what I shall do. David can’t eat them,
and I’ve explained it to her; but she insists that they are the best
things possible for him, and brings them every other day, with
unvarying regularity.”
“Let them come,” said Jack, “and Charles and I will advance to
the onslaught, and deliver David from the attacks of the enemy.
Plums, chicken-broth—even quail—let them continue to flow in
abundantly, and fail to mention to Auburn that David is not an
ostrich.”
“I guess Mrs. Willowby understands,” observed Gassy,
impersonally. “She asked me if David enjoyed the wine jelly she sent
yesterday, and I said I didn’t know, but that Jack said it was the best
he had ever tasted.”
“Thunder!” exclaimed Jack, turning very red. “Gassy, you do bear
away the palm for unpalatable honesty. Why is it, I wonder, that
every really honest person is disagreeable, too?”
“Letters!” said Dr. Grafton, reappearing opportunely. “Two for you,
Barbara, one from your mother, marked ‘Personal,’ and the other
postmarked New York. David, how would you like to see your
mother again?”
The little boy looked up and smiled at his father. “I wish she’d
come,” he said. “She’s never seen me since I was a sufferer from
India. I was a balloon when she left.”
“Well, you will soon have a chance to show her how fast you are
getting well,” replied the doctor, smiling. “I wrote her the whole story
of last month, the other day, since she is so much stronger, and here
is her answer. She will be at home at six o’clock this very afternoon.”
The children all exclaimed at once, even Gassy, who threw her
arms around Jack’s neck and hugged him, quite forgetting her usual
self-repression, and his recent thrust at her honesty.
“Hurray!” cried Jack, joyfully, escaping from Gassy and twirling a
small chair in air. “It seems too good to be true.”
Barbara said nothing. She glanced at her father, who returned her
look with one of understanding. They were both thinking of the
home-coming as it might have been.
“I forget about mother, some,” remarked the Kid. “Was she as
nice as Barbara?”
David answered him. “They’re both the same kind,” he said
quaintly, “but mother’s mother. That’s all the difference.”
“We must have a house clean and pretty enough for mother to
come back to,” said Barbara, smiling at the invalid. “Gassy, you will
have to help a little; there will be so much to do. Jack, take care of
David for a little while, please.”
“I don’t mind helping,” said Gassy, as they left the room together.
“I’d sweep the whole house, if it would bring mother back. I wonder
how she’ll think I look, with my hair bobbity. Mercy, Barbara; you
dropped one of your letters. Here it is.”
 “I’ll open it now,” said Barbara, sitting down on the stairs. “Why,
it’s from the Infant.”
The Infant’s letter was short and to the point.
“You haven’t written me or the other girls for three months,” it
began; “and I shall punish you. I shan’t tell you that Atalanta is
engaged, and that the Sphinx is too, though how it happened, I
don’t see. The man must have been able to answer some of her
mathematical riddles, or he never could have reached her heart. And
I won’t tell you about my summer abroad,—not a word,—nor how
Knowledge is going to be a post-grad. at Columbia, and visit me at
the end of every week. You don’t deserve a line, Barbara Grafton!
But I am writing to tell you that I just heard—no matter how—that
you refused the Eastman Scholarship, and to ask you mildly whether
you are insane. With all your talent and ability, Babbie, how could
you refuse it? Every one always knew that you should have had it in
the first place. Now you surely are not going to stay in that little
town of yours that you have so often ridiculed. There is only one
reason by which I can account for it, and I don’t think you can be in
love.”
Barbara laughed aloud, and folded up the letter. “To think that I
wanted it so much,” she said aloud, unconsciously. “What if I had
not been here this autumn!”
“Hadn’t been here?” repeated Gassy. “Why, Barbara! Did you ever
think of leaving us?”
Barbara threw an arm around her sister’s shoulders. “I wouldn’t
leave you for anything,” she said.
They had reached the kitchen, and had fallen to work together.
“It’s too bad we haven’t a servant,” said Gassy, “though you do cook
very well now, Barbara. Only I’d like mother to come home and find
a girl in the kitchen.”
 “It’s too bad, indeed,” returned Barbara, cheerfully. “But
remember how we were helped when David was ill; and think how
Mrs. Willowby gave up her own maid to us for so long, and of all
that Susan did. I’m so happy over David that I don’t mind cooking
nowadays. And you are a nice little assistant, Gassy.”
The nice little assistant glowed with pleasure. “Know why?” she
inquired.
“No; why?”
“Hair!” replied Gassy, laconically. “Hair and clothes. You were
pretty good to me that dreadful day when the hair went, and you
make me look so much nicer. I like you very much, Barbara,”—Gassy
never used the word “love,”—“and I don’t think college has hurt you
one bit, no matter what Miss Bates says. It’s just as Jack says,—your
A. B. stands for A Brick, instead of A Bachelor.”
“Did he say that?” said Barbara, laughing at the unexpected
conclusion, as she leaned over and patted the stiff little shoulder
near her.
“You’re a dear little sister,” she said. “Who’s that?”
A loud knock had sounded at the door.
“Come in!” called Barbara.
The door opened slowly; a puffing man, carrying a small trunk,
entered, and dropped it heavily on the floor. It was the Vegetable
Man.
“Why—what—” began Barbara.
The Vegetable Man smiled at her serenely. “She’s comin’,” he said,
and disappeared, leaving Barbara and Gassy staring at each other in
astonishment.
Suddenly the door reopened, and there appeared the Vegetable
Man’s daughter, as untidy and breezy as ever.
 “I’ve come back,” she said. “I heerd you was wantin’ help, so I
come over. Guess I’ll stay, this time. Shall I hang my hat here?”
“But—your husband—” began Barbara.
“Him? Why, don’t you know?” returned the Vegetable Man’s
daughter, serenely. “I didn’t like ’im after we was married. He drank.
So I come home.”
“Drank!” cried Gassy, in horror.
The Vegetable Man’s daughter nodded. “Like a fish!” she added.
“’Twan’t a day before he began. Stood it two months, I did, an’ then
I lit out. Come home, an’ it wasn’t excitin’ enough for me, so when I
heerd you was still without, I come over ag’in. Miss Barbara, if you
don’t tell me what to git for dinner, there won’t be no time for
gittin’.”
Barbara started. “You took me so by surprise, Libbie,” she said,
“that I can scarcely think. I’m delighted to have you back, especially
since mother is coming home to-day.”
“Want to know!” ejaculated the girl. “Landed right in the middle of
excitement, didn’t I?”
“Yes; and we’re going to celebrate with a grand supper,” put in
Gassy, thinking it best to break the news at once.
“You bet!” cried the Vegetable Man’s daughter, cheerfully.
“Nothing’s too good for your ma. Now, Miss Barbara, what meat? Or
do you still go without?”
Barbara hesitated. In that moment’s hesitation there was involved
more than the ordering of a dinner. Theory had its last battle with
Practicality, and came out with drooping colors. But Dr. Grafton
would have been relieved in regard to the stability of Barbara’s sense
of humor, if he could have heard the laugh with which she admitted
her own defeat. “I will order some steak,” she said.
 “It’s too good to be true,” she said joyfully to Gassy, as they left
the kitchen. “I declare, I scarcely know where I am, I am so glad.
Isn’t it beautiful when things unexpectedly work out right?”
“Glad the Vegetable Man’s daughter’s husband drank?” inquired
Gassy.
Barbara laughed again, and did not answer.
The morning flew by as if Father Time had suddenly borrowed the
wings of Mercury. Barbara dusted and straightened the rooms,
putting everything in immaculate order. Many little duties, which had
been disregarded during David’s illness, suddenly came to her
recollection, and the girl essayed to finish them all. She resolved that
her reign should end in a blaze of glory, and that her mother should
see that the Interregnum had not been entirely discreditable to the
House of Grafton. Gassy, a willing assistant, performed unwonted
miracles in the way of dusting, at the same time keeping up an
unending flow of conversation.
They were putting the finishing touches to the living-room, where
David still sat, waited upon cheerfully by the Kid, when the doorbell
rang vigorously. The door opened without ceremony and a strident
voice in the hall called, “Barbara Grafton!”
“It’s Miss Bates!” exclaimed Barbara, in a low tone. “Run and take
her into the library, Gassy.”
But it was too late.
“Oh, here you are!” said Miss Bates, appearing in the doorway. “I
came right in because I thought you were probably not dressed to
answer the bell. Barbara, I brought in some more plums because I
know David ought to eat ’em to build him up.”
“I am so sorry,” said Barbara. “But father says they are still too
much for him.”
 “Your father don’t know, Barbara; no, he don’t. Men never know
about such things. Now there ain’t much sugar in ’em—”
“Never mind!” interposed the Kid, courageously. “Never mind,
Miss Bates, I’ll eat ’em. Jack says”—
“Hey?” ejaculated the spinster.
“Charles,” warned Barbara, “you—”
“Jack says to let you give ’em and we’ll eat ’em,” continued the
Kid, determined to finish his sentence.
Miss Bates glared at him. “Barbara,” she said, “I don’t know why
it is, but I get insulted by these children every time I put my nose
into this house. Now I don’t want to complain, but I’ve a mind to tell
you what Charles did to me last night. I was laying the table for
supper, and I’d left the window open for air, and all of a sudden that
child’s head was in the window, and he says, ‘Mercy on us, Birdine,
is that all you’ve got for supper?’”
The Kid disappeared under the sofa like a whipped dog. Barbara
closed her lips tight, to keep from smiling.
“Well, of course,” put in Gassy, “the Kid is always used to plenty
of food, you see.”
Miss Bates glared again. “Is that why he wants to eat up my
plums?” she inquired. “No, Barbara, I’ll take ’em back, since you
won’t let David eat ’em. And I want to tell you now, that I don’t
intend to come to this house again under any circumstances, since
these children are so rude, till your ma comes home, no matter how
long it is!”
“But she’s coming home to-day!” burst from both David and
Gassy, in dismayed unison.
Miss Bates gave them a queer look, flashed a disdainful glance at
Barbara, and left the house.
 “It’s no use to scold you, Charles,” said Barbara, as she extricated
the child from his hiding-place. “But I am glad that mother is coming
to take the burden of your dreadful speeches. Now see if you can
stay good until supper-time.”
She left the room to arrange the details of the feast, and as she
passed through the hall, she came upon the letter marked “Personal”
which she had left forgotten on the table.
“I declare!” said she, sitting down on the stairs again. “I believe I
am going crazy with joy to-day. I have forgotten one thing after
another.”
She opened the letter eagerly, and as she did so, stray words
caught her eye,—“undoubted talent,”—“unquestionable success,”
etc. She turned to the first page and read:—
Dear little Girl,—For you are a little girl to me, and always will
be, in spite of your twenty-one years,—I have something to tell
you which cannot wait until I reach home. It is also somewhat of
a confession, and I am sure that you will absolve me when you
have read this.
I wonder if you have realized how very entertaining your
letters have been, and what a godsend they were to me in this
tedious place. They were so clever that I could not help reading
them to a few of the friends whom I have made here. One of
them is Hugh S. Black, whom I have often mentioned, you
remember, and who has been slowly recovering from an attack of
nervous prostration. He grew very much interested in your letters,
—so much so, that I had not the heart to refuse to read them. I
told him of your desire to write, and of the piles of rejected
psychological studies which have been mounting up on your desk.
In fact, you told him, yourself, although you were not aware of it.
We have often talked you over, and he thinks that you have
undoubted talent, and can gain unquestionable success in writing
for publication, if you will be willing to attempt the kind of things
that lie within your own experience. Mr. Black said the other day,
“Your girl has wit, humor, an excellent power of description, the
faculty of seeing things as they are, and of describing them from
an original point of view. Why won’t she write stories or sketches
 dealing with every-day life, instead of such nonsense as ‘The
Effect of Imagination on the Habits of the Child’?”
This morning, Mr. Black asked me if I would not request you to
read over your letters and change them into proper form for a
story, which he will be glad to publish serially in his magazine, if
the finished product meets with his approval. This is a splendid
opportunity for you, little daughter, and I advise you to grasp it.

Are you disappointed to find that your talents do not lie along
the psychological paths of lofty, intellectual labor? Does this story
of your experiences of one summer seem too trivial for your
effort? I think not, my dear, if the change in the tone of your
letters can be depended upon for inference. We shall talk this
over when I am once more at home, and can relieve my brave,
strong girl of the burdens which she has borne for four long
months.

There was more in the letter, but Barbara did not read it. She
danced about the hall with such abandon that her father opened his
office door, and regarded her with amazement.
“Has my housekeeper taken leave of her senses?” he asked
affectionately.
“On the contrary,” returned Barbara, saucily, “she has just
regained them. Father dear, I realize that we must not all aspire to
high tragedy or classic sublimity. High comedy seems to be more in
my line.”
Her father looked at her with his eyes softening more and more.
“Come in here,” he said, and closed the door behind them.
“Barbara, my dear,” he began, looking at her over his spectacles,
“I have a kind of confession to make to you.”
“Another one!” thought Barbara.
“When you came home last June, things were a little hard for
you, and seemed still harder, didn’t they?”
“Well, rather!” said Barbara, slangily.
 “Your point of view was young and uncompromising, and—yes—
rather toploftical.”
“I know it.”
Her father smiled. “You surveyed the world from a collegiate
summit, and found it woefully lacking. Well, so it is lacking, but all
the advice from all the lofty heights in the world will never make it
better. We must come down into the plain, and struggle with the
common herd, and help to raise it by our individual effort; glad to be
a living, toiling part of great humanity, like every one else; never the
isolated, censorious onlooker who does not share the common lot.
This is one of the hardest lessons for youth to learn, and I have
watched you learn it, during all these long, hard months.”
“If I only have really learned it!” put in Barbara.
“I have stood aside,” her father continued. “Sometimes I did not
help you, even when I might, and you thought me undiscerning or
abstracted. Barbara, my dear, you have done it all yourself, and I am
very, very proud of my firstborn.”
Barbara crimsoned with pleasure. “I’ve made awfully silly
mistakes,” she said, “and you have been so dear and patient.”
She kissed her father gratefully. As she went upstairs, her mind
was filled with wonder that she should ever have misunderstood him
so completely, and have complacently ascribed to herself intellect
and culture and knowledge superior to his. She found herself feeling
actually grateful for the events of her life since June.
“What if I had never known his darlingness!” she said.
It was not many hours before Auburn knew of the expected
arrival of Mrs. Grafton. Miss Bates had constituted herself an
information bureau, and had flitted hither and thither with an alacrity
not at all hindered by her rage against the younger Graftons.
 About four o’clock in the afternoon, as Barbara was giving
capable directions in the kitchen, a knock sounded on the door.
“I just ran in this way,” said Susan, “because I wanted to
congratulate you, and to see if you don’t want this chocolate cake
for supper. Barbara, what are you laughing at?”
“This is the third cake I have received to-day for mother,” giggled
Barbara, “and four chickens are waiting to be consumed. But put it
down, Sue dear, and Jack will make a hole in it very soon.”
“Well, anyway,” Susan declared, “it’s because every one loves your
mother so much! And it is also because every one recognizes your
pluck.”
“Everybody in this whole town is lovely!” answered Barbara.
Susan smiled. But there was no triumph in her face, only joy that
her friend had come into her own.
“It is half-past five!” announced Barbara from the window-seat of
the living-room. “Father has gone to the train almost an hour ahead
of time. Everything in the house is in perfect order; supper is nearly
ready; David isn’t tired; and we are all ‘neatly and tastefully attired’
for the occasion. Won’t mother be impressed!”
“Not by Gassy,” answered Jack. “Gassy has a hole in her stocking
above her shoe, and I don’t know how many below. Her waist has
two buttons missing in the back; still, her hair is somewhat
improved, and that’s one comfort.”
“I look as well as you,” retorted Gassy, carrying the work-basket
over to her sister. “You have some soot on your face, and I won’t tell
you where, and nobody else shall, either.”
“Am I clean?” asked David, plaintively.
“Clean!” exclaimed Jack. “Why, David, you’re as clean as a piece
of blank paper, and just as thin. Turn your face to mother when she
comes in, for she won’t be able to see you if she catches a glimpse
of you sideways.”
“How tiresome you are, Jack!” observed Gassy, condescendingly.
“I—”
She was interrupted by a series of bumps and scrapings in the
cellar below, followed by a strange wailing moan.
“Hark from the tombs a doleful sound!” cried Jack, rising. “I’ll bet
a quarter it’s the Kid.”
It was the Kid. Clad in a clean white sailor suit, and finding time
pressing heavily on his hands, he had bethought himself of a gift
with which to meet his mother,—none other than one of the new
kittens which had been born two weeks before and were now
passing their infancy on an old rug at the bottom of a barrel in the
cellar. Having made an expedition to the barrel, the Kid had
endeavored to gain one of the feline offspring by reaching over into
the dark depths, with a logical result of falling headlong into the
barrel. The muffled shrieks which the family heard, and the sounds
of scraping, were such as would naturally proceed from the attempts
of a small boy to rescue himself from an uncomfortable posture.
When Jack arrived upon the scene, the Kid had just succeeded in
freeing himself by tipping over the barrel and crawling out. Being
blinded and confused by the length of time in which he had been
standing on his head, he had made a wild dive for the door, and
found himself prone on the piles of coal on the cellar floor.
“Well, here’s a mess!” cried Jack, with disgust, picking him up and
dragging him along to the upper regions. “Look at this, Barbara; and
there are only ten minutes to change his clothes.”
Barbara hurried the little boy upstairs without a word of reproach.
She washed him quickly, and was struggling with a stiff new linen
suit, when the sound of a carriage came to her ears.
“I love you, Barbara, for changing me,” the Kid said humbly.
 She kissed him affectionately. “Now your tie,—there!”
The carriage had stopped. She heard Jack’s excited voice
downstairs. The Kid made a desperate wriggle from her and fled
down the steps, shouting for his mother. Barbara felt a sudden pang
as he left her,—a pang of loneliness and desertion. She stood still a
moment, and then, almost before she had time to move, a quick
step sounded on the stairs, a new, fresh mother came swiftly into
the room, and two strong, firm arms held her close.
“Barbara, my brave, splendid daughter!” said the most motherly
voice in the world.
Barbara’s reign was over.

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