t I take
responsibility for my children. I did not want them, but now they are
here I'll stand by them. That's why I've stayed as long as this. But
God does not stand by me."

Her voice was colorless and limp like a washed ribbon. It had in it no
anger, just a settled conviction.

"See here, Mrs. Paine," began Pearl, "you've been too long alone in
the house. You begin to imagine things. You work too hard, and never
go out, and that would make an archangel cross. You've just got to mix
up more with the rest of us. Things are not half so black as they look
to you."

"I could stand it all--until he said he could take away my home," the
words seemed to come painfully. "I worked for this," she said, "and
though it's small and mean--it's home. Every bit of furniture in this
house I bought with my butter money. The only trees we have I planted.
I sowed the flowers and dug the place to put them. While he is away
buying cattle and shipping them, and making plenty of money--all for
himself--I stay here and run the farm. I milk, and churn, and cook for
hired men, and manage the whole place, and I've made it pay too, but
he has everything in his own name. Now he says he can sell it and take
the money.... Even a cat will fight and scratch for its hay-loft."

"Oh well," said Pearl, "I hope you won't have to fight. Fighting is
bad work. It's a last resort when everything else fails. Mr. Paine can
be persuaded out of the hotel business if you go at it right. He does
not understand, that's all. That's what causes all the misery and
trouble in life--it is lack of understanding."

Mrs. Paine smiled grimly: "It's good to be young, Pearl," she said.

After a while she spoke again: "I did not ask you over entirely for
selfish reasons. I wanted to talk to you about yourself; I wanted to
warn you, Pearl."

"What about!" Pearl exclaimed.

"Don't get married," she said; "Oh don't, Pearl, I can't bear to think
of you being tied down with children and hard work. It's too big a
risk, Pearl, don't do it. We need you to help the rest of us. When I
listened to you the other day I came nearer praying than I have for
many years. I said, 'Oh, Lord, save Pearl,' and what I meant was that
He should save you from marriage. You'll have lots of offers."

"None so far," laughed Pearl, "not a sign of one."

"Well, you'll get plenty--but don't do it, Pearl. We need you to talk
for us."

"Well, couldn't I talk if I were married?" asked Pearl, "I hav