ked at her sharply, while an angry flush overspread
her face.

"I want to know one thing," said she.

"What?"

"It ain't true what I heard the other day, is it?"

"I don't know what you heard."

"Well, I heard you were going to be married."

Ellen turned quite pale, and looked at the other girl with a steady
regard of grave, indignant blue eyes.

"No, I am not," said she.

"Well, don't be mad, Ellen. I heard real straight that you were
going to marry Granville Joy in the fall."

"Well, I am not," repeated Ellen.

"I didn't suppose you were, but I knew he had always wanted you."

"Always wanted me!" said Ellen. "Why, he's only just out of school!"

"Oh, I know that, and he's only just gone to work, and he can't be
earning much, but I heard it."

The stream of factory operatives had thinned; many had taken the
trolley-cars, and others had gone to the opposite side of the
street, which was shady. The two girls were alone, standing before a
vacant lot grown to weeds, rank bristles of burdock, and slender
spikes of evanescent succory. Abby burst out in a passionate appeal,
clutching Ellen's arm hard.

"Ellen, promise me you never will," she cried.

"Promise you what, Abby?"

"Oh, promise me you never will marry anybody like him. I know it's
none of my business--I know that is something that is none of
anybody's business, no matter how much they think of anybody; but I
think more of you than any man ever will, I don't care who he is. I
know I do, Ellen Brewster. And don't you ever marry a man like
Granville Joy, just an ordinary man who works in the shop, and will
never do anything but work in the shop. I know he's good, real good
and steady, and it ain't against him that he ain't rich and has to
work for his living, but I tell you, Ellen Brewster, you ain't the
right sort to marry a man like that, and have a lot of children to
work in shops. No man, if he thinks anything of you, ought to ask
you to; but all a man thinks of is himself. Granville Joy, or any
other man who wanted you, would take you and spoil you, and think
he'd done a smart thing." Abby spoke with such intensity that it
redeemed her from coarseness. Ellen continued to look at her, and
two red spots had come on her cheeks.

"I don't believe I'll ever get married at all," she said.

"If you've got to get married, you ought to marry somebody like
young Mr. Lloyd," said Abby.

Then Ellen blushed, and pushed past her indignantly.

"Youn