e and lock his own door.

It is very unworthy of me to enjoy his playing a watch-dog of tradition
across the road to an emancipated woman like myself. The situation both
keeps me awake and puts me to sleep--and it is sweet, though I don't
know why.

God never made anything more wonderful than a good man,--even a stupid
one. Lights out!

CHAPTER VI

MAX AND THE ASAFETIDA SPOON

I do wish the great man who is discovering how to put people into some
sort of metaphysical pickle that will suspend their animations until he
gets ready to wake them up, would hurry up with his investigations, so
he can catch Sallie before she begins to fade or wilt. Sallie, just as
she is, brought to life about five generations from now, would cause a
sensation.

Some women are so feminine that they are sticky, unless well spiced with
deviltry. Sallie's loveliness hasn't much seasoning. Still, I do love
her dearly, and I am just as much her slave as are any of the others. I
can't get out of it.

"Do you suppose we will ever get all of the clothes done for the twins?"
Nell sighed gently as we sat on my porch whipping yards of lace upon
white ruffles and whipping up our own spirits at the same time.
Everybody in Glendale sews for Sallie's children and it takes her all
her time to think up the clothes.

"Never," I answered.

"She's coming, and I do believe she has got more of this ruffling. I see
it floating down her skirt," Nell fairly groaned.

Nell ought to like to sew. She isn't emancipated enough to hate a needle
as I do. But the leaven is working and she's rising slowly. It might be
well for some man to work the dough down a little before she runs over
the pan. That's a primitively feminine wish and not at all in accordance
with my own advanced ideas.

I was becoming slightly snarled with my thread, and I was glad when
Sallie and her sweetness seated itself in the best rocker in the softest
breeze, which Nell had vacated for her.

"Children are the greatest happiness in life and also the greatest
responsibility, girls," she said, in her lovely rich voice that always
melts me to a solution of sympathy whenever she uses it pensively on me.
"Of course, I should be desolate without mine, but what could I do with
them, if I didn't have all of you dear people to help me with them?"

Her wistful dependence had charm.

I looked at the twin with the yellow fuzz on the top of its head that
has hall-marked it as the Kitten in