he children would never know the difference, if you took them
as babies, and soon you wouldn't either; while Robert would be
delighted. If I were you, I'd give myself something to work for
besides myself, and I'd give him so much to think about at home, that
charming young grass widows could go to grass!"

"I believe you would," said Nancy Ellen, wonderingly. "I believe you
would!"

"You're might right, I would," said Kate. "If I were married to a man
like Robert Gray, I'd fight tooth and nail before I'd let him fall
below his high ideals. It's as much your job to keep him up, as it is
his to keep himself. If God didn't make him a father, I would, and I'd
keep him BUSY on the job, if I had to adopt sixteen."

Nancy Ellen laughed, as they went to their berths. The next morning
they awakened in cool Michigan country and went speeding north among
evergreen forests and clear lakes mirroring the pointed forest tops and
blue sky, past slashing, splashing streams, in which they could almost
see the speckled trout darting over the beds of white sand. By late
afternoon they had reached their destination and were in their rooms,
bathed, dressed, and ready for the dinner hour. In the evening they
went walking, coming back to the hotel tired and happy. After several
days they began talking to people and making friends, going out in
fishing and boating parties in the morning, driving or boating in the
afternoon, and attending concerts or dances at night. Kate did not
dance, but she loved to see Nancy Ellen when she had a sufficiently
tall, graceful partner; while, as she watched the young people and
thought how innocent and happy they seemed, she asked her sister if
they could not possibly arrange for Adam and Polly to go to Hartley a
night or two a week that winter, and join the dancing class. Nancy
Ellen was frankly delighted, so Kate cautiously skirted the school
question in such a manner that she soon had Nancy Ellen asking if it
could not be arranged. When that was decided, Nancy Ellen went to
dance, while Kate stood on the veranda watching her. The lights from
the window fell strongly on Kate. She was wearing her evening dress of
smoky gray, soft fabric, over shining silk, with knots of dull blue
velvet and gold lace here and there. She had dressed her hair
carefully; she appeared what she was, a splendid specimen of healthy,
vigorous, clean womanhood.

"Pardon me, Mrs. Holt," said a voice at her elbow, "but