ap, but it riled him so terrible that I never said nothin'
about it again, though all through my sixth marriage, it seemed a dretful
likely notion.

"A woman with much marryin' experience soon learns not to rile a husband
when 't ain't necessary. Sometimes I think the poor creeters has enough to
contend with outside without bein' obliged to fight at home, though it
does beat all, my dear, what a terrible exertion 't is for most men to
earn a livin'. None of my husbands was ever obliged to fight at home an' I
take great comfort thinkin' how peaceful they all was when they was livin'
with me, an' how peaceful they all be now, though I think it's more 'n
likely that Thomas is a-sufferin' because he can't move no more at
present."

Her monologue was interrupted by the arrival of the stage, which Harlan
had gladly ordered. Mrs. Holmes and the children climbed into it without
vouchsafing a word to anybody, but Mrs. Dodd shook hands all around and
would have kissed both Dorothy and Elaine had they not dodged the caress.

"Remember, my dear," said Mrs. Dodd to Dorothy; "I don't bear you no
grudge, though I never was turned out of no place before. It's all in a
lifetime, the same as marryin', and if I should ever marry again an' have
a home of my own to invite you to, you an' your husband'll be welcome to
come and stay with me as long as I've stayed with you, or longer, if you
felt 'twas pleasant, an' I'd try to make it so."

The kindly speech made Dorothy very much ashamed of herself, though she
did not know exactly why, and Gladys Gwendolen, with a cherubic smile,
leaned out of the stage window and waved a chubby hand, saying: "Bye bye!"
Mrs. Holmes alone seemed hard and unforgiving, as she sat sternly upright,
looking neither to the right nor the left.

"Rather unusual, isn't it?" whispered Elaine, as the ponderous vehicle
turned into the yard, "to see so many of one's friends going on the stage
at once?"

"Not at all," chuckled Dick. "Everybody goes on the stage when they leave
the Carrs."

"Good bye, Belinda," yelled Uncle Israel, putting his flannel bandaged
head out of one of the round upper windows. He had climbed up on a chair
to do it. "I don't reckon I'll ever hear from you again exceptin' where
Lazarus heard from the rich man!"

"Don't let that trouble you, Israel," shrieked Mrs. Dodd, piercingly. "I
take it the rich man was diggin' for eight cents in Satan's orchard, an'
didn't have no time to look up his