hey stopped in the Library, so that Miss Fanny saw them. Every one saw them: first of all generous little Sally, who was to meet Martie in Bonestell's, but who, perceiving that Rodn

p from under her shabby hat with happy blue e

very sentence opened a new vista of his experience and her ignorance. She did not suspect that he meant

idly out upon little Monroe, half-closed magazines in their hands. Card-playing men did not glance up as the village flashed by. On the platform of the observation car the usual well-wrapped girl and pipe-

Wednesday. They'll be in New York Sunday night. Awful

s or ball games," Martie laughe

how I'd like to show you New York. Wouldn't you love it! Broadway-well, it

d!" Martie ass

Ninetieth," Rodney said. "Her husband has scads of money," the boy p

rl suggested eagerly. "I'

wedding parties go. Of cou

here were other things to make Martie's heart dance as she set th

sides she had asked him, as they lingered laughing at the gate. That was all right-it was late, anyway. He

oung man hired a phaeton at Beetman's, and took his girl for a drive on Sunday, it was a definite avowal of serious attachment. In that case they usually had the

enough of the village to be asked either to walk or drive with the local swains, and he had be

nition, beyond words. What she would not have dared to hope, she actually experienced. No

e; ignorant, unhelped, she stumbled on her way alone. Nobody told her to pin her bronze braids more trimly, to keep her brilliant skin free from the muddying touch of sweets and pastries

was doing their Martie, was pleased to assume a high and mighty attitude. He laughed heartily at the mere idea that the attentions of Graham Parker's son might be construed as a compliment to a Monroe, and sarcastic

r father into a walk. Martie and Rod came into an empty house, for Sally was out, no one knew whe

old velvet tam-o'-shanter cap, made a gold aureole about her face. Rodney, watching her mount the little hill to the grave

odney sliced bread and toasted it, while Martie, trying to appear quite at her ease, but conscious of awkward knees and elbows just the same,

e rather anxiously into the kitchen. She greeted Rodney smiling

. Shame! He saw Rodney's cap in the hall-he's in the dining room." Aloud she said cheerfully: "I think this is dreadful-making y

himself to be led away. A few minutes later Martie, with despa

oom, in the early autumn twilight, was cold. Len had come in and expected his

imself with the tray. Lydia came gently in with an a

a fire," Malcolm said. "I w

take the chill of

ok his head. L

se?" he asked patiently, looking at a large

tle constrainedly, "we never h

d stiffly. "On Sundays, unless I am en

, "why don't you go ma

Len laughed wit

this would not do. Pa would be furious. Obviously Martie could not go, because in her absence Pa, Rodney, and

atching them sombrely. If Len hadn't come in and been so greedy, Martie thought in confused anger, tea would have been safely over by this time; if Pa were not there glowering s

r at the gate, much to Mrs. Monroe's surprise. Conversation, subdued but general, ensued. Martie walked boldly with

net strings dangling, was helping Lydia hastily to remove signs of the re

in the hallway. Martie came in and eyed him. "I would like to know what

ng, and I-I suppos

OSE you a

DID as

's different. You had spok

id again nervously. There was a sile

he idea? You upset your mother's and your sister's arrangem

rate attempt at self-defense. She felt tears pressing against her eyes. Lydia would have been meek,

of what to ask, and what not to ask, are not the ideas by

ie stirred as if

discontentedly. "You thorou

raised over the edge of his book and full of

is position; Sally coming in with a plate of sliced bread hummed contentedly. Martie appeared in her usual place at supper, not too subdued to win a laugh

album entitled "Favourite Songs for the Home." Martie had a good voice; not better than Sally's or Lydia's, but Sally and Lydia rarely sang. Martie had sung to her own noisy accompaniment since she was a child; she loved the sound of her own voice. She h

ging those same old songs. But when a silence followed he remembered only faulty Martie, awkwardly making Rodney Parker welcome at the mo

lowly about. They drove up past the Poor House to the Cemetery, and into the Cemetery itself, where black-clad forms w

down the Pittsville road, ba

e and have tea at

rt rose on a

ssed exactly what was in her mind she might have said: "First, won't your mother and sisters snub me? An

be delighted-come

to!" Mar

ted a pal. You and I like the same things; we're both a little different from the common run, perhaps-I don't want to throw any flowers

mile, half-deprecating, half-charmed, fluttered on her lips when Rodney talked in this fashion, but even to herself her words seemed ill-chosen and clumsy. A more experienced woman, with all of Martie's love and longing sur

nto "trouble" by being careless on these matters, but what that trouble was, or what led to it, she did not know. She and Sally innocently believed that some mysterious cloud enveloped even the most staid and upright girl at the touch of a man's arm, so that of subsequent events she

ur before dinner time, or sleep had when she nodded over her solitaire at night. But she drank in enchantment with R

g of wet straw, and with the rear quarters of nervous bay horses stirring in the stalls. The various men, smoki

osts', a dark red house shut in by a dark red fence. The Barkers' house was the last in the row, rambling, ugly, decorated with knobs and triangles of wood, with many porches, with coloured glass frames on its narrow windows, yet imposing withal, because of its great size and the gre

belonged to entirely different periods, some were Mission oak, some cherry upholstered in rich brocade; there was a little mahogany, some maple, even a single handsome square chair of teakwood from the Orient. On the walls there were large c

s, and chairs in here, but it was all more shabby, and the effect was pleasanter and softer. Ida's tea table stood by the hearth, with innovations such as a silver tea-ball, and a porcelain cracker jar decorated with a rich design in the minutel

the house. Rather uncertainly she took off her hat, but did not remove the becoming blue sweater. She sat erect in a low, comfortable armchair whose inviting curves made her rigid attitude unnatural

ungloved hands and the absurdity of her having removed her hat, and told Rodney about these things later. At the time they only made her

as the Hawkes' cousin, but did not quite think she should speak to her here. Carrie

eet, glancing at the sky and greeting his townspeople in his usual genial fashion. May poured the tea, holding R

that Ida was twenty-six, and had never had a Monroe admirer. Dr. Ben had once had a passing fancy for May's company; May was older than Ida, and, though like her physicall

n her mind. Martie had never driven with a young man before, and so had no precedent to guide her, but she wondered if Rodney should not

st reached the shabby green gate that led into the sunken garden when Sally, flying up behind her in the dusk, slip

natural for Sally to stop and speak to Joe, if she wanted to; Joe ha

in the sharp winter dusk. Joe was a mighty blond giant, only Martie's age, and younger, except in inches and in sinews, than his years. He had a sweet, simple face, rough, yellow hair, and hairy,

ou been?" M

ch!" dimpled Sally

un startl

" Joe contributed with his hal

reluctantly accepted the girls' separate accounts of the afternoon: Sally had been in church, Martie had driven about with Rod and had

a," the girl re

oval toward Sally. Joe Hawkes!-it was monstrous. That stup

one in their room, when

't really go sit in the choi

y admitted, adding indulge

the calf-like attentions of this clumsy boy of nineteen was more than absurd, it was painful. "Sally-you couldn't! Wh

lifeless hair. "He gets twenty-five from the express company,

thus of Joe Hawkes! What mattered it to Sarah Price Monroe how much Joe Hawkes made,

r over Joe than you are. I know what Pa would say. I'm not likely to marry any on

w it!" Marti

leg I used to go in and see him with Grace, and one day

" ejaculat

, you know-and that. And he never thinks of money, or getting married. And, Mart, he's so

ght be!" Martie inter

ow miserable he makes himself about it. And does it seem wrong to you, Mart, for me just to be kind to him? I tell him-I was telling

. She looked wistf

id impatiently after a short silence. "What do you care what he thinks? He's got

feel, Martie, with Joe's aunt working for the Parkers, and all," she added. "I'l

But I think you ought to stop it on your own. Joe is only a kid

old autumn moonlight poured into the room; a restless wind whine

driving with Rodney; she