ow, and for this fact David was profoundly thankful.
Those were not the days of rapid transit, of telegraph and telephone, nor
even of much letter writing, else the story would probably have reached
the aunts even before the bride and bridegroom arrived at home. As it was,
David had some hope of keeping the tragedy of his life from the ears of
his aunts forever. Patiently he answered their questions concerning the
wedding, questions that were intended to bring out facts showing whether
David had received his due amount of respect, and whether the family he
had so greatly honored felt the burden of that honor sufficiently.

Upstairs in a quaint old-fashioned room Aunt Clarinda was taking Marcia's
face in her two wrinkled hands and looking lovingly into her eyes; then
she kissed her on each rosy cheek and said:

"Dear child! You look just as I did when I was young. You wouldn't think
it from me now, would you? But it's true. I might not have grown to be
such a dried-up old thing if I had had somebody like David. I'm so glad
you've got David. He'll take good care of you. He's a dear boy. He's
always been good to me. But you mustn't let the others crush those roses
out of your cheeks. They crushed mine out. They wouldn't let me have my
life the way I wanted it, and the pink in my cheeks all went back into my
heart and burst it a good many years ago. But they can't spoil your life,
for you've got David and that's worth everything."

Then she kissed her on the lips and cheeks and eyes and let her go. But
that one moment had given Marcia a glimpse into another life-story and put
her in touch forever with Aunt Clarinda, setting athrob the chord of
loving sympathy.

When they came into the parlor the other two aunts looked up with a quick,
suspicious glance from one to the other and then fastened disapproving
eyes upon Marcia. They rather resented it that she was so pretty. Hannah
had been their favorite, and Hannah was beautiful in their eyes. They
wanted no other to outshine her. Albeit they would be proud enough before
their neighbors to have it said that their nephew's wife was beautiful.

After a chilling pause in which David was wondering anew at Marcia's
beauty, Aunt Hortense asked, as though it were an omission from the former
examination, "Did you ever make a shirt?"

"Oh, plenty of them!" said Marcia, with a merry laugh, so relieved that
she fairly bubbled. "I think I could make a shirt with my eyes shut."

Aunt