ie's own or her mother's.

"How long does your aunt expect to stay?" asked Jimmie, casually, while
Jennie was clearing the table. Aunt Rachel was in the kitchen. She
prided herself on never being "a burden on any one." Doubtless, some of
her friends would have preferred that she be. Most of us have a skeleton
we do not wish to keep on exhibition.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe a week or two," said Jennie, mischievously.
"She hasn't told me yet."

"Oh!" replied Jimmie, in a disappointed voice. "Business down town"?
"Dinner at the Club"? No, he couldn't keep that up indefinitely.
Besides, what did a man want of a home, if he wasn't going to live in
it? Covertly, Jennie watched him. She knew every expression of his face.
It amused her, but she was sorry, too. "Jimmie wants awfully to
flunk--and dassent," was her mental comment.

"Anything on for this evening, Jimmie?" inquired Jennie, sweetly, too
sweetly, Jimmie thought. He had heard those dulcet tones before.

"Yes--no!" stammered Jimmie. How he wished he had! However, as Jennie
said no more, he dismissed the subject from his mind. She probably
didn't really mean anything, anyway.

When James Atherton reached home that evening, he found the house
lighted from top to bottom. Beautifully dressed women were everywhere,
and in their midst--Aunt Rachel, at her best!

"Ladies," she exclaimed, and Jimmie paused to listen, "I am
honored--more so than you can guess--at the distinction conferred upon
me. This afternoon you have seen fit to make me one of your leaders in a
most important movement for civic betterment--an honor never before
accorded a woman in this city--and I need not assure you that you shall
not regret your choice. As a member of the Civic Betterment Committee of
Loudon, I shall do my duty." ("I bet she will!" commented Jimmie, _sotto
voce_.) "Again I thank you!" went on Aunt Rachel. "There's a work for
you and for me now to do, and--" she paused impressively, "we will do
it." ("I'll bet on you every time, Auntie," commented Jimmie to
himself.)

"Jimmie Atherton, what in the world are you doing?" whispered an
exasperated voice. "Hurry, Jimmie, hurry--do!" urged Jennie. "Dinner is
almost ready to serve, and you haven't even made the first move to
dress. Hurry, Jimmie, please!" And Jimmie did. He fairly sprinted into
his clothes, appearing presently fully clad and good to look upon.

"Bet you a nickel Jennie couldn't have done that," he reflected,
complacentl