Slater was not
eligible for the position of daughter-in-law. Nellie Slater had never
patched a quilt nor even made a tie-down. She always used baking powder
instead of cream of tartar and soda, and was known to have a leaning
toward canned goods. Mrs. Motherwell considered her just the girl to
spend a man's honest earnings and bring him to seedy ruin. Moreover,
she idled away her time, teaching cats to jump, and her eighteen years
old, if she was a day!

Tom knew that if he went to the party it must be by stealth. When he
drove up to the kitchen door his mother looked up from her ironing and
asked:

"What kept you, Tom?"

Tom had not been detained at all, but Mrs. Motherwell always used this
form of salutation to be sure.

Tom grumbled a reply, and handing out the mail began to unhitch.

Mrs. Motherwell read the addresses on the Englishman's letters:

Mr. Arthur Wemyss,
c/o Mr. S. Motherwell,
Millford P.O.,
Manitoba, Canada,
Township 8, range 16, sec't. 20. North America.

"Now I wonder who's writing to him?" she said, laying the two letters
down reluctantly.

There was one other letter addressed to Mr. Motherwell, which she took
to be a twine bill. It was post-marked Brandon. She put it up in the
pudding dish on the sideboard.

As Tom led the horse to the stable he met Pearl coming in with the eggs.

"See here, kid," he said carelessly, handing her the letter.

Tom knew Pearl was to be trusted. She had a good head, Pearl had, for a
girl.

"Oh, good shot!" Pearl cried delightedly, as she read the note. "Won't
that be great? Are your clothes ready, though?" It was the eldest of
the family who spoke.

"Clothes," Tom said contemptuously. "They are a blamed sight readier
than I am."

"I'll blacken your boots," Pearl said, "and press out a tie. Say, how
about a collar?"

"Oh, the clothes are all right, but pa and ma won't let me go near
Nellie Slater."

"Is she tooberkler?" Pearl asked quickly.

"Not so very," Tom answered guardedly. "Ma is afraid I might marry her."

"Is she awful pretty?" Pearl asked, glowing with pleasure. Here was a
rapturous romance.

"You bet," Tom declared with pride. "She's the swellest girl in these
parts"--this with the air of a man who had weighed many feminine charms
and found them wanting.

"Has she eyes like stars, lips like cherries, neck like a swan, and a
laugh like a ripple of music?" Pearl asked eagerly.

"Them's it," Tom replied modestly.