ly beautiful and expensive set her son, Charlie, had given
her for her last birthday. As for ferns, she had so many that Green
Valley always went to her for its wedding and funeral decorations. And
she was only too happy to lend her collection of feathery beauty.

From where he stood on his doorstep Joe could look down three streets
and see Green Valley in its shirt sleeves and slippers and its gingham
apron, so to speak. He could look over the white sash curtains right
into Mert Hagley's kitchen for Mert lived behind his store. Joe saw
Mary, Mert's wife, turning the pages of the evening paper and studying
the advertisements. And he knew as well as he knew his own name that
Mary was talking to Mert about a new heater, begging him to buy a nice
new hard-coal heater instead of the second-hand hot blast stove he was
thinking of buying from some man in Spring Road.

John Henderson had another one of his bad headaches for Joe saw him
lying on the dining-room couch. His wife was applying cold-water
bandages and tenderness to that bald pate of his when she knew better
than any one that what he needed was a stiff dose of salts and castor
oil and a little self-control on the nights she had ham and cabbage for
supper.

Over in the Morrison cottage Grandma Whitby was knitting stockings for
the little Morrisons at a furious rate and every once in a while
sending one of the children out for more wood or a fresh pail of water
or some more yarn. Joe could see the children sitting around the
dining-room table with their books and games and arguing with each
other every time the grandmother made a new request.

Grandma Whitby was a dictatorial old soul. She not only was eternally
busy herself but she kept everybody around her forever on the jump.
Mrs. Morrison was her only child and once in a moment of bitterness
said that her eight children seemed like a houseful until they got to
running errands for mother and that then she realized that eight wasn't
anywhere near enough. And the Morrison's second boy, John William,
once explained to Joe that he wore out his shoes, "running errands for
Granny."

Alice Richards' baby was ailing again. Joe could see Allie walking the
floor, could almost hear her comforting the restless mite in her arms.

Somebody came hurrying down the street and as they passed a street lamp
Joe saw that it was Mrs. Downey, taking Tommy to the dentist. Doc
Mitchell was a nice enough chap but as Joe watc