in mind and body so
that if I come back--"

Aloud, she said: "I guess you'll get stuck on one of those French girls.
I should worry! They say wages at the watch factory are going to be
raised, workers are so scarce. I'll prob'ly be as rich as Angie Hatton
time you get back."

And he, miserably: "Little old Chippewa girls are good enough for Chuck.
I ain't counting on taking up with those Frenchies. I don't like their
jabber, from what I know of it. I saw some pictures of 'em, last week, a
fellow in camp had who'd been over there. Their hair is all funny, and
fixed up with combs and stuff, and they look real dark like foreigners.
Nix!"

It had been reassuring enough at the time. But that was six months ago.
Which brings us to the Tessie who sat on the back porch, evenings,
surveying the sunset. A listless, lackadaisical, brooding Tessie. Little
point to going downtown Saturday nights now. There was no familiar,
beloved figure to follow you swiftly as you turned off Elm Street,
homeward bound. If she went downtown now, she saw only those
Saturday-night family groups which are familiar to every small town. The
husband, very wet as to hair and clean as to shirt, guarding the gocart
outside while the woman accomplished her Saturday-night trading at
Ding's or Halpin's. Sometimes there were as many as half a dozen gocarts
outside Halpin's, each containing a sleeping burden, relaxed, chubby,
fat-cheeked. The waiting men smoked their pipes and conversed largely.
"Hello, Ed. Th' woman's inside, buyin' the store out, I guess."

"Tha' so? Mine, too. Well, how's everything?"

Tessie knew that presently the woman would come out, bundle laden, and
that she would stow these lesser bundles in every corner left available
by the more important sleeping bundle--two yards of goods; a spool of
100, white; a banana for the baby; a new stewpan at the Five-and-Ten.

There had been a time when Tessie, if she thought of these women at all,
felt sorry for them; worn, drab, lacking in style and figure. Now she
envied them. For the maternal may be strong at twenty.

* * * * *

There were weeks upon weeks when no letter came from Chuck. In his last
letter there had been some talk of his being sent to Russia. Tessie's
eyes, large enough now in her thin face, distended with a great fear.
Russia! His letter spoke, too, of French villages and chateaux. He and a
bunch of fellows had been introduced to a princess or