iling lips.

The cold November weather might have been rosy June; the dull routine
of the Monroe home a life rich and full for Martie now. She sang like a
lark, feeding the chickens in the foggy mornings; she dimpled at her
own reflection in the mirror; she walked down town as if treading the
clouds. Anything interested her, everything interested her. Mrs. Harry
Locker, born Preble, said that Martie just seemed inspired, the way she
talked when old lady Preble died. Miss Fanny, in the Library, began to
entertain serious hopes that the girl would take the Cutter system to
heart, and make a clever understudy at the old desk. Sally, watching,
dreamed and yearned of Martie's distinction, Martie's happiness; Lydia
prayed. Malcolm Monroe, as became a man of dignity, ignored the whole
affair, but Len, realizing that various advantages accrued, befriended
his sister, and talked to Rodney familiarly, as man to man.

"I can't stand that fresh kid!" said Rodney of Len. Martie shrugged
without speaking. She owed Len no allegiance. Had it suited Rodney to
admire Len, Martie would have been a loyal sister. As it was, she would
not risk a difference with Rodney for any one like Len. She was
embarked now upon a vital matter of business. Had a few hundreds of
dollars been involved, Malcolm Monroe would have been at her elbow,
advising, commending. As it was, her happiness, her life, her children,
her whole future might be jeopardized or secured with no sign from him.
Interference from her mother or sisters would have been considered
indelicate. So Martie stood alone.

Immediately after the theatre party, the question of a series of dances
again arose, and Martie somewhat hesitatingly repeated her offer of the
Monroe house for the first. Rodney's friend, Alvah Brigham, was to come
to the Parker family for Thanksgiving; the dance was to be on Friday
night, and a large picnic to Brewster's Woods on Saturday. They would
take a lunch, build a fire for their coffee, and have the old
school-day programme of singing and games.

For the dance, the two big parlours and the back room must be cleared;
that was simple enough. Angela Baxter would be at the piano for the
music; sufficient, if not extraordinary, and costing only two dollars.
The supper would be sandwiches, cake, coffee, and lemonade: Monroe's
invariable supper. Rodney thought ices necessary, and suggested at
least a salad. Martie and Sally considered the salad.

"Lord, I wish we c