ow what Mrs. Sellimer has set her heart on, because she has
already begun instructing me in her ideals. She wants her daughter to
marry a rich man, and Mr. Edgerton Compton isn't rich, he only looks
like he is. Mrs. Sellimer feels that she's terribly poor, herself;
it's the kind of poverty that has all it wants to eat and wear, but
hasn't as many horses and servants as it wants. It's just as hard on
her as it would be on you if the bacon gave out and you couldn't go for
more. Annabel--that's Miss Sellimer--likes Mr. Compton very, very
much, but she feels like her mother about marrying a rich man, and I
don't think he has much chance. One trouble is that he thinks he must
marry a rich girl, so they just go on, loving each other, and looking
about for 'chances.'

"I feel like I oughtn't to be wasting my time telling about my friends
when there are all these wonderful lights and carpets and decorations
and conveniences, so much more interesting. Whenever you want hot
water, instead of bringing a bucketful from the spring and building a
fire and sitting down to watch it simmer, you just turn a handle and
out it comes, smoking; and whenever you want ice-water, you touch a
button and give a boy ten cents.

"The funny thing to me is that Annabel and Mr. Compton both think they
HAVE to marry somebody rich, or not marry at all. They really don't
know they COULD marry each other, because imagining they would be
unable to keep the wolf from the door. That's because they can't
imagine themselves living behind anything but a door on one of the
'best streets.' We know, don't we, Brick and Bill, that it takes
mighty little to keep the coyote from the dugout! And there's
something else we know that these people haven't dreampt of--that
there's happiness and love in many and many a dugout. I don't know
what's behind the doors on the 'best streets.'

"We are not going straight on to Chicago. A gentleman has invited the
Sellimers, which of course includes me, to a house-party in the country
not far from Kansas City. He is a very rich man of middle age, so they
tell me, a widower, who is interested in our sex and particularly in
Annabel Sellimer. Mr. Edgerton Compton isn't invited. You see, he's a
sort of rival--a poor rival. This middle-aged man has known the
Sellimers a long time, and he has been trying to win Annabel for a year
or two. If it hadn't been for Mr. Compton she'd have married HIS HOUSE
before now, I gathe