hat they talked was family history.

"Mamma," said Kittie, the largest of the little girls, "if Aunt Deb
does buy a new coat and you get her old one, then can I have yours?"

"I don't know," her mother replied; "I should have to make it over if
you did take it. Maybe we can have a new one."

"No, we can't have a new one, I know, for Aunt Deb said so, but she is
going to give me her brown dress and you her gray one; she said so the
day I helped her iron. We'll have those to make over."

For the first time I noticed the discontented lines on our hostess's
face, and it suddenly occurred to me that we were in the house of the
Bishop's second wife. Before I knew I was coming on this journey I
thought of a dozen questions I wanted to ask the Bishop, but I could
never ask that care-worn little woman anything concerning their
peculiar belief. However, I was spared the trouble, for soon the
children retired and the conversation drifted around to Mormonism and
polygamy; and our hostess seemed to want to talk, so I just listened,
for Mrs. O'Shaughnessy rather likes to "argufy"; but she had no
argument that night, only her questions started our hostess's story.

She had been married to the Bishop not long before the manifesto, and
he had been married several years then to Debbie. But Debbie had no
children, and all the money the Bishop had to start with had been his
first wife's; so when it became necessary for him to discard a wife it
was a pretty hard question for him because a little child was coming to
the second wife and he had nothing to provide for her with except what
his first wife's money paid for. The first wife said she would consent
to him starting the second, if she filed on land and paid her back a
small sum every year until it was all paid back. So he took the poor
"second," after formally renouncing her, and helped her to file on the
land she now lives on. He built her a small cabin, and so she started
her career as a "second." I suppose the "first" thought she would be
rid of the second, who had never really been welcome, although the
Bishop could never have married a "second" without her consent.

"I would _never_ consent," said Mrs. O'Shaughnessy.

"Oh, yes, you would if you had been raised a Mormon," said our hostess.
"You see, we were all of us children of polygamous parents. We have
been used to plural marriages all our lives. We believe that such
experience fits us for our after-life, as we are only pr