t come out again till after the caller had departed.
She had on her gray-and-lavender dress. "Always when Mother breaks a
dish seems like she goes and puts on her gray-and-lavender," thought
Myra; but she only said, "You look nice in that dress, Mother."

"I know I do," returned old Mrs. Bray serenely, "but I don't aim to make
it common, Myry."

At holiday time, Nell and her husband came for a visit. Nell immediately
proceeded to take the reins of government. She was a big, good-looking
woman, younger than Myra. She had a large, well-modeled face with bloomy
cheeks, golden brown eyes, fringed thick as daisies, and crisply
undulating waves of dark hair. She disposed of their greetings in short
order, retired to her old room to change into serviceable work things,
and issued her ultimatum.

"Now don't go to any fuss, Myry. John and me ain't company. Treat us
like the family. You've changed the roaster, ain't you, Myry? This ain't
near so good a place for it. I've brought you one of my hens,
Mother--all dressed and ready. We'll have it for dinner. Now Myry, don't
you go to getting out a white table-cloth. Get one of them red-checkered
ones. I s'pose those are your weddin' dishes--well, leave 'em be, now
you got them down. But we won't use 'em common--the old white ones is
plenty good enough. Folks that use their best every day has got no best.
You might get the potatoes on now, Myry."

"Let me finish settin' the table, Myry," pleaded old Mrs. Bray. A moment
later there was a crash, "Oh, Nellie! Oh, Myry! I didn't go to do it! My
arm breshed it."

"Marvin's souvenir pitcher his Aunt Mat give him one Fair time! It must
a' be'n fifteen year old!"

"I didn't go to do it!" quavered old Mrs. Bray.

"Who ever heard of such a thing? Of course you didn't do no such crazy
thing! But that don't save its being broke. Here--let me sweep it up."

"Don't you sweep them pieces up!" shrilled her mother.

This voice of high command on the part of her little old subservient
mother gave Nell pause. She stood, dust-pan in hand, looking down upon
that stiffly stooping figure garnering into her gathered apron a little
heap of splintered china.

"Mother must be getting childish," Nell said to Myra, when old Mrs. Bray
had trotted stiffly away with her spoils.

Myra did not reply. She hoped Nell would not discover that ravished
shelf of prized old china.

"Well--Nell got ye in hand?" inquired Nell's husband, John Peebles, at
dinner.