new home a workshop instead of a nest,
and took from the glamour of marriage. It made the girl cling to the
freedom of the country schoolhouse and fear the new life, where the
examples presented to her by those who had tried it were discouraging to
an observant onlooker. All this came up as she worked, and saddened the
day even more than before. As she put the broom away in the corner beside
the water pail, she noticed that the blackboard remained to be cleaned.
Taking an eraser she rubbed vigorously.

"It is a rat. Run, rat, run," begun as high as little arms could reach,
and straggling zigzagingly down toward the bottom, was the last to be
attacked. As her hand passed reluctantly over it she said aloud:

"I'm erasing my blackboard too. Pretty soon I won't be a girl any more.
Pretty soon----"

She checked herself, and putting away the eraser, packed the few
belongings in the drawer of the desk into a neat bundle to be carried
home. With the package under her arm and her little tin dinner pail
dangling from her wrist, Elizabeth fitted the key into the lock. As it
clicked under her fingers the thought came to her that she must turn it
over to the school board. The finality of it clutched her. Thrusting the
key back into the door, she was about to go into the little room again for
another look around, when Susan Hornby's voice at her elbow made her
start.

Aunt Susan saw the tears which had sprung into the young eyes at the
leave-taking and drew her down on the step.

"What is it?" she asked earnestly. "You ought to tell me if you are
worried."

The tears which had been gathering spilled themselves over cheek and
chin.

"Will I get like the rest of them, Aunt Susan?--never go anywhere, never
read anything, have nothing ahead but the same weary round over again
every day?" she queried, when she was able to command her voice.

Susan Hornby's face worked determinedly to control her own emotions for a
moment before she could speak.

Elizabeth continued: "I've been--I've been so happy this summer, Aunt
Susan, and--and I'm a little afraid of that other life. Don't think I
don't want to be married--I do," she felt bound to interpose. "It's
just--just that--well, you can see how it is; the married women around
here wear faded things, and--and their teeth get bad--and a man hardly
ever wants to take his wife anywhere. Look at Mrs. Carter, and Mrs. Crane,
and ma. Poor ma! She never gets to go anywhere she wants to."