oked startled. "We could rent that whole upper floor," she said
hesitatingly.

"But you would rather have this place a school house than a
boarding-house?" argued Martie.

Lydia's wet eyes reddened again.

"DON'T say such horrible things, Martie! The way you put things it's
enough to scare Pa to death! Why shouldn't we live here, as we always
have lived?" She turned to her father. "Pa, it's not RIGHT for you to
consider such a change just because Martie----"

"I'm doing it for you, Lyd," Martie said quickly. "I shall be in New
York--"

They hardly heard her; Martie had talked of New York since she was a
child. But Martie suddenly realized that it was true; she had really
been planning and contriving to go back through all these placid months.

"I'll discuss it with your brother," Malcolm finally said. "I'll see
what Leonard thinks."

"But, Pa," Martie protested, "what does LEN know about it?"

"I suppose a man may be supposed to know more about business than a
woman!" Lydia exclaimed.

"Yes--yes, this is a man's affair," Malcolm conceded, scraping his
chin. "Your brother has been associated with men in business affairs
for years; he had some college work. I'll see Len."

There was nothing more to say. Martie felt instinctively that Len would
approve of the sale of the old place, and she was right, but it was
galling to have his opinion so eagerly sought by her father, and to
have him so gravely quoted. Len, slow witted and suspicious, thought
that there was "something in the idea," but added pompously that he
could not see that the Monroes, as a family, were under any need of
obliging the Frosts and the Tates, and that the property was there in
any case, and there was no occasion for hurry.

Malcolm repeated these views at the dinner table with great
seriousness, and Lydia triumphantly echoed them over and over. As she
and Martie dusted and made beds the older sister poured forth a quiet
stream of satisfied comment. Such things were for men's deciding, after
all, and she, Lydia, never would and never could understand how they
were able to settle things so quickly and so wisely.

But Martie was not beaten. She knew that Len was wrong; there was no
time to waste. The old Mussoo tract, down at the other end of the town,
was also under consideration, and the deal might be closed any day. One
quiet, wet day she asked Miss Fanny for leave of absence, and went to
the office of old Charley Tate. Mr. Tate was not