ightful way of doing when lords of creation show any
signs of subjection.

"Where did you learn all this sort of thing?" he asked with a quizzical
look.

"As 'this sort of thing' is rather a vague expression, would you kindly
explain?" returned Amy, knowing perfectly well what he meant, but
wickedly leaving him to describe what is indescribable.

"Well--the general air, the style, the self-possession,
the--the--illusion--you know", laughed Laurie, breaking down and
helping himself out of his quandary with the new word.

Amy was gratified, but of course didn't show it, and demurely answered,
"Foreign life polishes one in spite of one's self. I study as well as
play, and as for this"--with a little gesture toward her dress--"why,
tulle is cheap, posies to be had for nothing, and I am used to making
the most of my poor little things."

Amy rather regretted that last sentence, fearing it wasn't in good
taste, but Laurie liked her better for it, and found himself both
admiring and respecting the brave patience that made the most of
opportunity, and the cheerful spirit that covered poverty with flowers.
Amy did not know why he looked at her so kindly, nor why he filled up
her book with his own name, and devoted himself to her for the rest of
the evening in the most delightful manner; but the impulse that wrought
this agreeable change was the result of one of the new impressions
which both of them were unconsciously giving and receiving.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

ON THE SHELF

In France the young girls have a dull time of it till they are married,
when 'Vive la liberte!' becomes their motto. In America, as everyone
knows, girls early sign the declaration of independence, and enjoy
their freedom with republican zest, but the young matrons usually
abdicate with the first heir to the throne and go into a seclusion
almost as close as a French nunnery, though by no means as quiet.
Whether they like it or not, they are virtually put upon the shelf as
soon as the wedding excitement is over, and most of them might exclaim,
as did a very pretty woman the other day, "I'm as handsome as ever, but
no one takes any notice of me because I'm married."

Not being a belle or even a fashionable lady, Meg did not experience
this affliction till her babies were a year old, for in her little
world primitive customs prevailed, and she found herself more admired
and beloved than ever.

As she was a womanly little woman, the maternal