a
day, and the time had to be made up. When Mrs. Harsanyi asked her if it
did not depress her to sing at funerals, she replied that she "had been
brought up to go to funerals and didn't mind."

Thea never went into shops unless she had to, and she felt no interest
in them. Indeed, she shunned them, as places where one was sure to be
parted from one's money in some way. She was nervous about counting her
change, and she could not accustom herself to having her purchases sent
to her address. She felt much safer with her bundles under her arm.

During this first winter Thea got no city consciousness. Chicago was
simply a wilderness through which one had to find one's way. She felt no
interest in the general briskness and zest of the crowds. The crash and
scramble of that big, rich, appetent Western city she did not take in at
all, except to notice that the noise of the drays and street-cars tired
her. The brilliant window displays, the splendid furs and stuffs, the
gorgeous flower-shops, the gay candy-shops, she scarcely noticed. At
Christmas-time she did feel some curiosity about the toy-stores, and she
wished she held Thor's little mittened fist in her hand as she stood
before the windows. The jewelers' windows, too, had a strong attraction
for her--she had always liked bright stones. When she went into the city
she used to brave the biting lake winds and stand gazing in at the
displays of diamonds and pearls and emeralds; the tiaras and necklaces
and earrings, on white velvet. These seemed very well worth while to
her, things worth coveting.

Mrs. Lorch and Mrs. Andersen often told each other it was strange that
Miss Kronborg had so little initiative about "visiting points of
interest." When Thea came to live with them she had expressed a wish to
see two places: Montgomery Ward and Company's big mail-order store, and
the packing-houses, to which all the hogs and cattle that went through
Moonstone were bound. One of Mrs. Lorch's lodgers worked in a
packing-house, and Mrs. Andersen brought Thea word that she had spoken
to Mr. Eckman and he would gladly take her to Packingtown. Eckman was a
toughish young Swede, and he thought it would be something of a lark to
take a pretty girl through the slaughter-houses. But he was
disappointed. Thea neither grew faint nor clung to the arm he kept
offering her. She asked innumerable questions and was impatient because
he knew so little of what was going on outside of his own depart