Victrola--when it was just what both he and Bill had been
wanting. But for all that she was her aunt, her own mother's sister and,
poor dear, she was a good soul. It would probably upset her awfully and
besides, oh well, it just wasn't right.

Before her mirror Rose blushed furiously, quite ashamed of the light way
in which she had been leading Uncle Martin on. "But I haven't said one
solitary thing auntie couldn't have heard," she justified herself.
Oh, well, no harm had been done. But she mustn't stay here, that was
certain. She wouldn't say so, or hurt their feelings, for she wanted to
be on the best of terms with them always, but she would stop flirting
with Uncle Martin and just turn him back into a dear good friend. She
hoped she was clever enough to do that much. And the dark-brown curls
received a brushing that left no doubt of the vigor of her decisions.

She insisted that she go to Fallon that morning.

"I've been here eight whole days, Uncle Martin," she announced firmly,
"eight whole days and haven't tried to get a thing. It's terrible, isn't
it, Aunt Rose, how lazy I am. I'm going to have Bill take me in right
straight after breakfast."

"If you're so set on it, I'll see about your position this afternoon,"
conceded Martin reluctantly. "We'll drive in in the car."

"Oh, Uncle Martin," she coaxed innocently, "let me try my luck alone
first. Bill can tell me who the different men are and if I know he's
waiting for me outside in the buggy, it will keep me from being scared."
And her young cousin, only too pleased with the proposed arrangement,
chimed in with: "That's the stuff, Rose. Folks have got to go it on
their own, to get anywhere."

By evening she had a position in an insurance agent's office with wages
upon which she could live with fair decency. As it had rained all day
and her employer wanted her to begin the next morning, she had the best
possible excuse for renting a room in Fallon and asking Bill to ride
in horseback with some things which she would ask Aunt Rose, over the
telephone, to pack. It rained all the next day, too, and Sunday, when
she met Mrs. Wade and Bill at church, she told them she had some extra
typing she had promised to do by Monday. "No, auntie, this week it is
really and truly just impossible, but next week--honest and true!"
she insisted as the older woman seconded rather impersonally her son's
urgent invitation to chicken and noodles.

Soon winter was upon them in goo