eserted lane, and opened the picket gate before Dr. Ben's cottage. The little house in winter stood in a network of bare vines; in summer it was smothered in roses, and fuchsias, marguerites, hollyh

jumble of bloom, with the lilac blossoms rustling overhead, birds nesting in

e narrow, shuttered inside with dark brown wood. At the back-between the house and the little river, and shut away from the garden b

ng to Monroe children for many years. Martie said to herself to-day that she always felt like a child when she came to Dr. B

he kitchen path were in this room; the third, the girls knew, was a bedroom. Upstairs were several unused rooms full of old furniture and piles of magazines, and back of the

snakeskins, moccasins, wampum, spongy dry bees' nests, Indian baskets and rugs, ropes and pottery, an enormous Spanish hat of y

ite at home here, for the old doctor was Rose Ransome's mother's cousin, and through their childhood the little gabled house had been

ous comments on the weather and the health of the Monroe family had b

o was not given to thought-in the hours since the party for Gra

known Joe all my life, and he's only a boy, of course-ever so much younger than I am-and he has just gotten this notion into his head. Of course, it's pe

ry jumble of words poured forth. The unpleasant sensation of their last meeting, the confusing feeling that she was not saying what Dr. Be

ally rapidly. "And it's only my misfortune and Joe's that his first lov

Joe?" the old man asked

ust as nice as they can be in their way-" again Sally's flow of eloquence was strangely shaken; she felt as a child might, caught up in the arm of a much larger person and rushed along helplessly with only an occ

h me, Sally?" said the doct

and the tears came. She nodded, and through all her b

d what does his age or yours, or his place or yours, matter beside that? They've t

about the room. Sally, kneeling still over the

to feel that if you marry a man Mrs. Cy Frost doesn't ask to her house, you'll be unhappy ever after. But I ask you, Sally-I ask you as a man old enough to be your father-if you had your home, your husband, your health

face was

ng about position!" she said, all

t as if you did?" h

e me to marry Joe?"

ss, is the woman's gift to her man! These Frosts and Parkers: it was the coarse strength of their grandfathers that got them across the plains; it was the women who packed the books in the horsehair trunks, that re

the brightness dying from her face. "But Pa will never, never-And

rom it a small, old-fashioned photograph. Sally saw a young woman's form, disguised under the scallops, ruffles, and pleats of the early se

pose?" murmured Sal

poor girl, poor girl! We wanted a big family, Sally; we hoped for a houseful of children.

ing in Dr. Ben to take her into his confidence in this way,

he citizen's duty. Some day we'll recognize it, and then you bearers of children will come into your own. There'll be recognition f

many times. Dr. Ben's extraordinary views upon the value of the family were familiar to e

nto your heads to get married some day," t

oded her face. She made

em?" the old man

ow!" Sally said in great conf

" he asked scornfully.

ch of such things until she's married," Sally

talk to you about such thi

!" Sally answe

usiness in life, after all. She's not taught ye any other. What do

, even a little sick. He stopped his march,

ry well know, I've got my own theories about putting motherhood on a different basis, a business basis. I want you to let me pay you-as the State ought to pay you-three hundred a year for every child you bear.

ale. Now she rose

more. I know you've been thinking about these things so long that you forget ho

lly!" the old man i

d back, "nobody's

sue a man for not supportin

o pay the three hundred

hat before you can force him." The doctor sighed. "So you

father!" she answered. "Then

Sally. Give you the least blood-claim on a man's money, and you'll push it as far as you can.

ildren and nations when Martie came back, and Sally, with

e did not notice her sister's indignant silence, for they met Rodney Parker coming out of the Bank, and he walked with them to the bri

of splendid shame, as she went about her usual household occupations, passing from the hot pleasantness of the kitchen to the cool, stale odours of the dining room; running up

shortcomings with stoicism, so that it was in no sense resen

ssert, "you don't mind if I go to the

his wife. Mrs. Monroe patiently told him what she knew of it. "Why, no, I su

aid, with a soaring heart. He

m asked, glancing about the circle. Martie told herself she

he price!" grinned Leonard.

ing alone with young Parker?" Malco

e why NOT" Mrs. Mon

his surprise. He looked about i

asked politely. "Then per

t dumb wi

ise," said Malcolm. He retired to his library, and Martie had to ease her

ays the happier for being with Sally. She washed her only gloves, pressed her suit, and spent every alternate minute during the next day

o-night, Pa?" he asked. Ma

ile," Malcolm said tolerantly.

oing to the Opera House w

now I ain't," Le

ted his mother. Martie

ia said placatingly. "So I thought perhaps Sa

reast was heav

was to go with us?" she

id, disapproving of her vehemence. "I c

ILY!" Martie muttered in a fury. Her lip trembled, and she got to her feet. "It doesn't

rying quietly, and shaken by only an occasional long sob. It was during this stage that Lydia came into the room, and sitting down beside Martie's kn

e huskily, jerki

he happiness she had denied. An hour later, all the prettier for her tears, she met Rodney

said at once, "I've go

said quickly and cautiously. "

nd she flushed like a rose

d one or two others, and Mrs. Cliff Frost is going to ch

on her mother, but cro

Cliff Frost is chaperoning some of th

t door," her father

ow; to the hot

a dry voice. "Yes," he add

boy gallantly securing the girls' tickets before he and Martie went up the aisle to their own seats. All Monroe was in the

u rather be with

at do yo

he blood ran quick in her veins. The dirty big hall, with its high windows, was fairyland; the whispering crowd, Rodney's nearness, and the consciousness of her own yo

l, believed that he had written the Junior Farce, that he had been president of his class, that the various college societies had disputed for his membership. In return, she spun her own romances, flinging a veil of attractive eccentricity over her father's character, generously giving Lydia an anonymous admirer, and painting

intimately for years. An aunt of his lived in Pittsville and the two had met as boys and later had been classmates for the brief period Bannister had remained at the Leland Stanford University. Martie wrapped her beauty-starved young soul in the perfect past, when men wore ruffles and buckles and capes, and were all gallantr

ING!" she whispered, as

he kindly matron, walking at her side down the crowded street, and leaving Rodney to follow with the others. Little Ruth Frost had had some trouble fearfully r

nted shop window, looking directly upon the sidewalk, its pyramid of oyster shells cascading from a box set by the entrance, its jangling bell that the opening door set to clanging, its dingy

kept its dining room open for a change, after the six o'clock supper-or to Bonestell's for banana specials. This-this was living! Martie established herself comfortably in the corner, s

t forty; Billy Frost, a gentle little lad of fifteen who was lame; Rodney, and a rosy-cheeked, black-moustached Dr. Ellis f

t blended the varied types into a happy whole. She skilfully ignored Rodney; Billy, Mary, Cliff, and eve

e were all gone when, after a long wait, the fried oysters came smoking hot, slipped straight from the pan to the plates. Martie drank coffee, as Mary

, and a man came in alone, and lo

dney. "There's W

said that he could see they didn't need the gaslight when Miss Monroe was along. Rodney said she was Brunhilde, and Bannister's comment was that she could save wig bills

ey had been Monroe and Pittsville. It was intoxicating to hear him exchanging comments with Rodney; no, he hadn't finished "coll." "I'm a rolling stone, Miss Monro

against Mabel. Jesse Cluett, her husband, is in the play; and his kid, to

sown, nevertheless. She liked the question; she was even

the elementary classes of French and English where his knowledge in these branches gave him immediate prominence-and drifting away in a road company after only a few months of fraternity an

which he found himself. Martie's thrilled interest firing him to-night, he exerted himself: told stories in Chinese dialect, in brogue, and with an excellent Scotch burr; he went to the rickety piano, and from the

or he told her to look up at the Dipper throbbing in the cool sky overhead. Martie knew what was coming, but she looke

rested her, everything interested her. Mrs. Harry Locker, born Preble, said that Martie just seemed inspired, the way she talked when old lady Preble died. Miss Fanny, in the Library, began to entertain serious hopes that the girl would take the Cutter system to heart, and make a clever understudy at

a difference with Rodney for any one like Len. She was embarked now upon a vital matter of business. Had a few hundreds of dollars been involved, Malcolm Monroe would have been at her elbow, advising, commending. As i

use for the first. Rodney's friend, Alvah Brigham, was to come to the Parker family for Thanksgiving; the dance was to be on Friday night, and a large pi

r the music; sufficient, if not extraordinary, and costing only two dollars. The supper would be sandwiches, cake, coffee, and lemona

ve a punch," Rodney compl

Pa would

how to make it, anyway-" She was hardly following her own words. Under them lay the wonderful consciousness that Rodney Parker was here at the house, sitting on the porch

med to her in the heartening morning sunlight that it would be the first of many such innocent festivities, and that be

the old house seemed cold and inhospitable and the burden of carrying a social affair to success fell like a dreadful weight on the girl's soul. Ma

. Sally and Martie early realized that they must inevitably hurt the feelings and disappoint the

. "And if people like Miss Fanny and the Johnsons exp

ty we have given in YEARS" her mother

ounting Len and Billy Frost, and Rod, and Alvah Brigham. Then I wrote down all the girls I'd like to a

sk Grace Hawkes!" Lydia sa

u think! I beg your pardon, Lyd," she added penitently, laying her hand

mistake to slight Gr

encilled list gloomi

e weren't having it

ANYTHING to entertain as other people do!" Sal

at a memorandum which read: "Invitation

details of the affair were too strange to be entered into with any confidence, an

epper, the seamstress, engaged for one day only to do the important work on both Sally's and Martie's gown, kept postponing, as she always did postpone, the day, finally appointing the Wednesday before Thanksgiving Day. Pa's cousin, a certain Mrs. Potts, wrote from Portland that she was coming down for the holiday, and Sally and Martie could h

ating that he would not be present at the dance. Martie and Sally did not want him for any social qualit

ble to list as eligible-the new young doctor from the Rogers building, little Billy Frost, the Patterson boys, home from college for Thanksgiving, Reddy Johnson, and Carl Polhemus-answered not at all, as is the custom with young men. Sally and Martie did

nd Martie went so far as to say that had Joe Hawkes possessed an evening suit, he and Grace might have

ow soon they should begin dancing, how soon serve supper. Mrs. Monroe thought supper should be served

e to take Martie and Sally walking. The girls were sewing at the endless roses; but they jumped up in a flutter, and ran for hats and sweaters. They did not e

irls loved for the memory of bygone days, when they had played at dolls' housekeeping along the banks of the little Sonora, climbed the low oaks, and waded in the bright shallow water. Even through to-day's excitement M

laugh, and Martie saw that he had cause for laughter. She rattled on recklessly, anxious only to avoid silence; hardly conscious

reathless discontent, when she was setting the table for a cold supper that night. But

noxious relative, a stout, moustached woman of fifty, wa

aid Mrs. Potts, "I's asking you what you see in

Potts bridled. Her favourite attitude toward life was a blan

a little nettled. "No, my dear, I didn't say that. No. I w

into the fire. Martie, rather unc

e kind thing, and succeeding as usual in saying the one thing that could hurt and annoy. "He's quite a boy for the girls, but we

eavily. "For if that young felle

ing without all this fuss!" Martie burst out angrily.

an ashamed mumble as sh

hy about him just the same. Well! what's he to that young feller u

Martie said, when the three girls were going to bed that night. Lydi

ow night the party will be

past eleven. What would be happening a

es, and bowls of delicious violets sending out currents of pure perfume. Martie swept, straightened, washed gas globes, shook rugs. She gathered the flowers herself, straightening the shoulders that were beginning to ache as she arranged them with wet, cool fingers. Sally was counting napkins, washing china and glass. Belle dragged

as already tired. But to buy bottled cherries for the lemonade, olives for the sandwiches, and flat pink and white mint candies was exhilarating

se of hairpins, when two gloved hands were suddenly pressed over Martie's eyes, an

a said together. The two younge

ome! And how was everybody? And how was college? Oh, fine! And was she still at the s

ation. Details followed. Rose, as pretty as a bird in her little checked suit and feathered hat, li

e, you know-I think I hadn't better. I'd love to, Martie. An

sisters were walking home again. "I'm sorry she can

h time, putting on the black gown with the pink roses sti

nd best stockings and slippers. Both girls had spent the late afternoon in bathing, taking last stitches, laughing and romping over the upper floor, but the blazing colo

nd had almost won his father's consent to a request to go down town a while, when a casual inquiry from Malcolm as to what he intended to do down town inspired Len to a reminiscent chuckle and an artless o

Leonard had a bad quarter of an hour, and was directed to get into his Sunday suit, make himself as useful and agreeab

e dim old mirror, was quite lovely. The black gown made her too-generous figure seem almost slender; the cretonne roses glowed richly against the black, and Martie's creamy skin and burnished

olm had gone down town; the ladies, wrapped in shawls, were gossiping in Mr

d she says that Mr. Rice and her mother say she must come up to-nigh

lf panic, as the doorbell rang. Lydia, her colour rising suddenly, went to the door, raising her hand above as she passed under the gaslight to turn the

lowed. Martie, taking the girls upstairs, called back to them that she would send Len down. While they were all in Lydia's room, laying off wraps and powdering noses, Maude Alien came up, and "Dutch" Harrison's older sister Kate, and Amy Scott, and Martie was so fu

rlour. Martie and Sally and the other girls went in, and every one tried to talk gaily and naturally as the young men stood up, but there seemed to be no reason why

e been glad to play Proverbs and Twenty Questions, but she did not quite like to begin anythi

ked her at once to dance, and Potter Street asked Sally, but both girls, glancing self-consciously at their guests, declined, and the young men s

DO dance this! I can'

rls danced together. Then little Billy Frost came in, and after him, as fresh and sweet as her name, came Ros

that afternoon, "hadn't seen him for YEARS!" and that he had talked her into

me in: neither danced, nor was urged to dance. They went home at ten o'clock. It was immediately afterward that Rodney came with his friend. Martie met them in the hall, ready for the intimate word, the smile that

artie suggest

t his friend. "Oh, Gawd!

and said "Pleased to meet choo," over and over. Alvah would not dance, remarking that he ha

ty confidence of a kitten. She stood up, dainty and sweet in her pink gown, and played her violin, with the gaslight shin

stairs. Alvah grew noisy and familiar, and Martie did not know quite how to meet his hilarity, although she tried. She was afraid t

ly to Robert Archer's slow, uninteresting narration of the purchase of the Hospital site

superintending coffee cups, while Sally, alert again, cut the layer cakes. The table looked charming and the sandwiches and coffee, cream and olives, were swiftly put in circulation.

might have seemed her chattering self, but she knew-and Sally knew-that the knife was in her heart. She said good-night to Rodney brightly, and kissed R

e here," Rose said, puckering her lips and shaking her head as she carefully pinned a s

and yawning, sank into an armchair by the dying fire. Martie, watching the lanterns, and hearing the voices die away after the last slamming of the gate, stood on the dark porch staring into the night. The trees scarcely showed against a heavy sky,

o that great silent space, to cool her burning head and throbbing heart in those immeasurable distances on distances of dark. She did not want to go back into the dreadful house, where the chairs were pushed about, an

d have borne those. But to have Lydia and S

e party seemed a life-failure, as she lay thinking of it in the dark, a colossal blunder never

lop and spatter of rain. Thank God there cou