ll be an ackshal
godsend to Mr. Cluett and me, for the children have took to you
something very unusual. We'll have elegant times going around together,
and you'll never be sorry."

These cheering sentiments Jesse echoed when he came in with Lloyd a few
minutes later.

"Much depends upon our future contracts, Miss Monroe," said he, "but I
will go so far as to say this. Should you some time desire to try the
calling that Shakespeare honoured, the opportunity will not be lacking!"

This threw Sally, Martie, and Mabel into transports. It now being after
three o'clock tea was proposed.

And now Martie busied herself happily as one belonging to the little
establishment. Sally had taken rapturous possession of Leroy. Mabel
lighted the alcohol lamp. Martie, delayed by the affectionate
Bernadette, shook out the spotted cloth, and cut the stale cake.

They were all absorbed and chattering when Wallace Bannister opened the
door. At sight of him Martie straightened up, the long knife in one
hand, Bernadette's sticky little fingers clinging to the other. The
news was flung at him excitedly. Martie had left home--she was never
going back--she had only twenty dollars and an old coat and hat--she
was going to stay with Mabel for the present----

"What's this sweet dream about staying with Mabel?" Wallace said,
bewildered, reproachful, definite. He came over to Martie and put one
arm about her. "Look here, folks," he said, almost indignantly,
"Martie's my girl, aren't you, Martie? We're going to be married right
now, this afternoon; and hereafter what I do, she does--and where I go,
she goes!"

The love in his eyes, the love in all their watching faces, Martie
never forgot. Like a great river of warmth and sunshine it lifted her
free of her dry, thirsty girlhood; she felt the tears of joy pressing
against her eyes. There was nothing critical, nothing calculating,
nothing repressing here; her lover wanted her, just as she stood,
penniless, homeless, without a dress except the blue gingham she wore!

The glory of it lighted with magic that day and the days to come. They
laughed over the pretty gipsy hat, over Len's coat, over the need of
borrowing Mabel's brush and comb. With Joe and Sally, they all dined
together, and wandered about the village streets in the summer
moonlight; then Martie went to bed, too happy and excited to sleep, in
Bernadette's room, wearing a much-trimmed nightgown of Mabel's. It had
been decided that the