h
confidences and laughter to the admiring Rodney, with the diamond
glittering on her hand; these and a thousand other Roses haunted
Martie. Lydia and her mother admired and marvelled with the rest. Lydia
it was who first brought home the news that the young Parkers were to
be married at Easter, Sally learned from Rose's own lips that they were
to spend a week in Del Monte as honeymoon.

The Monroe girls still wandered down town on weekday mornings,
loitering into the post-office, idling an hour away in the Library,
drifting home to mutton stew or Hamburg steak when the clock in the
town hall struck twelve. Sometimes Martie watched the big eastern
trains thunder by, looking with her wistful young blue eyes at the
card-playing men and the flushed, bored young women with their heads
resting on the backs of their upholstered seats. Sometimes she stopped
at the little magazine stand outside of Carlson's cigar store; her eye
caught by a photograph on the cover of a weekly: "Broadway at
Forty-Second," or "Night Lights from the Singer Building," or the
water-front silhouette that touches like the sight of a beloved face
even some hearts that know it not. She wanted to do something, now that
it was certain that she would not marry. Slowly, and late, Martie's
soul was awakening.

She asked her father if she might go to work. Certainly she might, her
father said lifelessly. Well, what should she do?--the girl persisted.

"Ah, that's quite another thing!" Malcolm said, with his favourite air
of detecting an inconsistency. "You want to work? Well and good, go
ahead and do it! But don't expect me to tell you what to do. Your
mother may have some idea. Your grandmother--and she was the loveliest
woman I ever knew!--was content to be merely a lady, something I wish
my daughters knew a little more about. Her beautiful home, her children
and servants, her friends and her church--that was her work! She didn't
want to push coarsely out into the world. However, if you do, go ahead!
I confess I am tired of seeing the dark, ugly expression you've worn
lately, Martie. Go your own way!"

Armed with this ungracious permission, Martie went down to see Miss
Fanny, talked with Grace, and even, meeting him on a lonely walk,
climbed into the old phaeton beside Dr. Ben, and asked his advice.
Nothing definite resulted, yet Martie was the happier for the new
interest. Old Father Martin talked to her of her plans one day, and
presently put her in c