needs of the strong man's very soul in unsuspected, often
unconscious and unthanked fashion; such a trifle as a rose-shaded lamp
for tired eyes; a funny bundle of domestic happenings told cleverly to
offset the jarring problems of commerce; a song played by sympathetic
fingers; a little poem tucked in the blotter of the strong man's desk,
an artful praising of the strong man's self!

Mary realized this latter fork was not probable--nor was she unhappy
because of it. She sometimes retired to her study to vow eternal wrath
upon Trudy Burrows for having attached herself to the household; or to
pray that her mother be enlightened to the extent of moving; but
beyond an occasional "mad on," as Luke said, Mary viewed life from the
angle of the doughnut and not that of the hole.

"I wish someone else would try baking these greasy things," she said,
coming in with another plateful.

"Why don't you slip on a kimono instead of a starched house dress,
Mary? Whoever is spick-and-span on Sunday morning?"

"Don't get Mary to lecturing," Mrs. Faithful warned between bites.
"She'll make us all go to church if we're not careful. Are you going
out with Gay to-day, Trudy?"

"Yes. And I'm awfully mad at him, too. It's fierce the way he
gambles."

"Don't be too harsh; it's a mistake to nag too much beforehand. He's a
lovely young man and I wish Luke could have one of those green paddock
coats. I always like a gentleman's coat with a sealskin collar, don't
you?"

"If it's paid for." Trudy's eyes darkened. "Just because Gay comes of
a wonderful family he thinks he has the keys to the city."

"He's a lovely young man," Mrs. Faithful reiterated. "Oh, what did
Beatrice Constantine wear when she came down to the office?"

"Clothes." Mary was deep in the Sunday paper art section.

"She looked like a Christmas tree on fire," Luke supplemented. "Lovely
butter-coloured hair she has!"

"That will do. She is very nice, but different from our sort." Mary
glanced up from her paper.

Trudy bridled. "She's no different; she has money. My things have as
much style. Gaylord knows her intimately, and he says she is a
wretched dancer and pouts if things don't please her. The best tailors
and modistes in the country make her things. Who wouldn't look well?
If I had one tenth of her income I'd be a more Gorgeous Girl than she
is--and don't I wish I had it! Oh, boy! Why, that girl has her maid,
the most wonderful jewellery you ever saw, two automobi